Between The Lines
by Seasonal Dreamer
Summary: Marco needed someone to save him. To read between the lines and put him back together. Make him feel whole again. Make him stop running away from the past that found him no matter where he went. Marco had yet to find that person. M&D fanfic! COMPLETE!
1. Preface

_**Title: **__Between The Lines_

_**Author: **__Seasonal Dreamer_

_**Rating:**__ T...paranoia makes you be careful :)_

_**Disclaimer: **__So I think by now we all know that neither me nor anyone else who writes these stories owns Degrassi, so I'm just going to get it over with now and not do it again for the rest of the chapters :P_

_**Author's Note:**__ Wow. Okay, so I've kinda been gone a while. But I do have a sort of justifiable excuse! Writter's. Block. And just plain laziness :P Simple as that. Mix it together and you've got a looong hiatus from writing :P Now, normally I usually mostly finish the story before I start publishing because I'm known to change things drastically the more into the story I get, but I'm just tired of keeping it to myself :P So I figured I'm just going to wing it and see how it goes :) I may have to edit it later, but ah well._

_So, please read and enjoy and I'm sorry for taking so long!_

* * *

_Marco couldn't sleep anymore._

_Marco could barely even breathe. This was the closest thing to drowning anyone could ever come close to._

_And he felt it. Every. Single. Day._

_It crashed over him in dark, navy blue waves, suffocating him until he thought he might pass out. He only resurfaced for long enough to barely catch his breath, before another wave forced him back under. But he couldn't see anything. Everything around him was dark, too dark to really make anything out, and it terrified him even more._

_But the thing about being under water, is that people can see you through its shimmering surface. See a vague image of you, anyway. See what they think is you. But if you tried to call out to them, they wouldn't hear. If you tried to tell them something, they wouldn't listen. They wouldn't know. Like they were deaf. Sound and understanding got lost between the thin surface, and you couldn't do anything about it. You made it as far as getting to the barrier, but it was them who needed to break it and pull you up._

_And if you cried, it only added to the crushing water around you, and no one would notice because it got disguised so well. It was a lot like being invisible, only in this particular type, people see the ghost of the person you once were. Hear the ghost of your laugh and personality, but not the real you, because mostly they didn't like it. They didn't want to look for it or think that there's something wrong even when it sometimes showed plainly in your face. They only wanted what they liked, and as long as your ghost put up a pretty little show, they were fine with letting the rest of you get pummeled by the sea._

_Oh how he wanted it to go away. Marco couldn't take living like this for too much longer. He wished he could just stop the nightmares...stop the drowning...stop the fear..._

_But it wasn't like he had a choice._

* * *

Prefaces.

Gotta love them :)


	2. Chapter 1

**Title: **_Between The Lines_

**Author: **ME :)

**Rating: **T

* * *

Marco del Rossi stared at the building looming up ahead as he walked. The familiar 'new-kid-new-school' jitters were resurfacing again for what felt like the billionth time as he hesitantly paused in the parking lot. A whole mash of students were crammed at the doors, laughing and talking, and it was intimidating to say the least.

Marco sighed. It wasn't like he hadn't been in this situation before.

They say that the more you move, the stronger your own character becomes. You're able to deal with a whole sea of different personalities and know how to handle them. You're not sheltered by your own safe little bubble.

However, the more you move the more you also start to realize that a lot of people are pretty much the same, just a different name and face. So really, Marco couldn't technically say that you met a _whole_ bunch of different personalities...It was frustrating at times, but then again, what could you do? Deal with it seemed like a pretty good answer to him. Unfortunately sometimes there are things you just can't deal with...some things you keep trying to run away from...

Shaking his head to clear it as he shouldered his backpack and, holding it like a shield, he took a deep breath and plunged right into the crowd. He almost artistically maneuvered his way around and between people, his eyes darting around him in a peculiar and almost suspicious looking way. Or, that's what someone would think had anyone been paying close enough attention. No, to them he was just another new kid that had been forced into their already over-populated student body, and nothing more then that. He got questioning glances in a _have-I-seen-you-here-before? _kind of way, but none of them seemed to think much of it as one could hardly know the names and faces of every single person in their school. So they just went about with their business as usual without giving Marco a second thought.

With the exception of one person.

Marco's flittering eyes accidentally locked on to the one person's piercing gaze that he had been most anxious to avoid. These eyes refused to look away and seemed to demand something of him. An explanation, perhaps. But it was the kind of explanation Marco could not give.

He hesitantly tried to glance away and down at his feet, but every time he did they would shoot back up as if they had a mind of their own to meet his older brother's continuous stare. They looked down on him shamelessly, which in turn made other people flicker their eyes between brothers in wonder, though to be honest they didn't know they were related.

Sometimes Marco could hardly believe that Carlos was his brother himself. They were almost complete opposites, personality wise anyway. Carlos had always been the stronger and more daring one, where as Marco was more timid and careful. However they had always been a team, the two of them, though they had conflicting traits. In fact, that's what most people would say made them so successful. Marco was always the voice of reason whenever Carlos would come up with some sort of spur of the moment idea that seemed too outrageous to be possible, and they would revise it from there. He was what his older brother would call 'his right arm' and Marco treasured the title like it was the most honourable position anyone could give him. Maybe it was because, of all people, his brother had been the one to grant him it.

Marco could remember when they were little how they'd spend every waking moment goofing around with each other and placing bets. Seeing whether two boys could successfully slide down the staircase in matching moth-eaten sleeping bags like you would slide down an icy hill in the winter time. Seeing how many times you could make Jimmy-From-The-Block squirt milk out his nose by witnessing the brothers perform knock-knock jokes and make funny faces. Seeing whether two boys could successfully cram themselves underneath the sink cupboard while playing a huge hide-and-seek game with the neighbourhood kids...and win.

But that was before _it_ happened.

Before they became orphans.

That was before they started moving. Or rather, that was before _Marco_ started moving. Carlos had outright refused to move from his hometown of Toronto, Ontario and actually ran off to live with his best friend. It had taken a long while with many arguments and slammed doors before their step-parents, Mr. and Mrs. Lombardi, allowed their eldest step-son to live with his friend after the consent of his parents. Mr. and Mrs. Lombardi were actually distant relatives that they never talked to. The only reason they 'adopted' them was because no one in the family ever would and they knew they'd feel guilty if they didn't. The family all blamed Marco, apparently, for the death of his parents and thus exiled him from their contacts. There was a big ceremony and everything about it, which Marco had been so nicely informed of.

So Carlos left his younger brother to deal with everything on his own without so much as a goodbye. Ever since then neither Carlos nor Marco had spoken two words to each other. Their family had been torn apart, and Marco almost fancied the idea that Carlos placed all the blame on him as well. He who knew him better that he often knew himself. But here's the thing. _Carlos didn't know what happened._ Carlos had hardly bothered to find out and just jumped instantly to being infuriated with his brother. But the truth of the matter was he didn't know what happened to his brother that night. Or his parents. He had come up with wild assumptions, sure. But no one other than Marco, really, knew what the 'big secret' was that tore these two halves of a whole up.

But what a secret it was.

Eventually, Marco and his step-parents, after a few years of being away, moved back to Toronto where they came face to face with Carlos for the first time since they left. Marco could remember the cold indifference he had showed them all as he stood in front of the small family's new home. His strikingly dark eyes seemed darker then usual as the specs of grey that littered his iris' raced like storm clouds. It was a quiet resentment. Carlos would not offer up any information to them unless he was asked directly, but all the while Marco couldn't help but shiver each and every time that almost cruel gaze fell on him.

Carlos had agreed to live with them for his senior year of highschool after Mrs. Lombardi had pleaded with him to 'come back home.' Carlos had easily always been the favourite. Marco? Not so much. But the older one was hardly in the house anyway, and Marco couldn't help but think that it was mainly because of him. All summer Marco had locked himself away in his room, dreading the day he'd have to rejoin the world of the living and plaster that fake smile on his face and 'sunny' personality. Carlos had in turn stayed away for days at a time, hanging out with his friends and mentally denying the fact that he had a damaged brother back home. It never even once crossed his mind that Marco might need him.

Now, though the bell was ringing and Marco had been instructed to visit the Main Office as soon as possible, he couldn't move. Carlos' gaze held him captive until they shifted away and the brother disappeared from Marco's sight as quickly as he had come. Marco was shaking. Words he had hoped never to hear again assaulted his brain and caused him to clutch a sickly pale hand to his forehead in a feeble attempt to stop the pounding headache that came with it.

The hallway was empty now, with the exception of a few stray students, as he collapsed to his knees. His bag landed with a thump beside him, spilling all of its contents. Tears threatened to flow from behind his eyelids but he did his best to hold them back. How much of a loser would he be if he got caught crying on his first day of school? No, he didn't need that. Not when there was still a high possibility that someone here might recognize him. After all, he'd only been gone for a short while, really. Though he didn't think those who would remember him would take too kindly to him for just up and disappearing.

Great.

It took a while, but after Marco had recomposed himself, he gathered up his belongings and did his best to shove them back in, but they just didn't fit as well as they had before. Groaning with absolute frustration and pent up emotion, Marco then proceeded to drop whatever wouldn't fit all nice and pretty into his seemingly over-stuffed backpack and kick it down the hallway. It wasn't exactly the proper way to treat textbooks, but hey, it was effective.

"Bag trouble?"

Marco turned his head to the side slightly as he rounded another corner and saw a student that looked older than him and much, much taller smirking at him amusedly. He had a golden-looking set of curly hair that Marco had never seen before, crystal blue eyes, and was leaning up against the lockers. The boy seemed to have just finished packing his own backpack, though the bell had rung some time ago. "No," Marco answered rudely, a trace of sarcasm lacing his speech. "I've always prefered to look like an idiot on my first day of school. I find it soothing."

The student chuckled slightly before pushing himself off the wall and over to where Marco stood. He picked up the abused books and jammed it into Marco's still slightly opened backpack while saying, "I take it you've done this before?"

Marco chose to ignore this. "Who're you?" he demanded none too kindly. He really wasn't in the mood for this.

"Dylan Michalchuk." He extended his hand in a formal way. Marco raised an eyebrow at it before reaching out with his own and shaking it briefly. Odd.

"Marco del Rossi."

Dylan cocked his head to the side and regarded him curiously. "You wouldn't happen to be related to Carlos would you?"

"Not as far as he's concerned," Marco responded bitterly under his breath. Louder, he said, "What's it to you?"

Dylan shrugged. "Nuthin'. You guys just have the same last name."

"Really."

Marco started walking down the hallway and away from a probably confused Dylan. He knew he was being insolent, but just then he didn't care. He didn't care if he made any friends at all for the rest of his life. He liked being alone. Isolation was his friend. None of his family liked him, so why should he think that random strangers _here_ of all places would?

Exactly. He shouldn't.

"Hey, wait up!"

Marco heard Dylan's hurried footsteps from behind him as Marco got closer and closer to the corner of the hallway. Really, why was an older guy chasing after _him? _Shouldn't he be threatening to beat him up or something? He vaguely noticed the huge amount of posters that covered the walls and the slight discolouration of the green lockers as he turned around. "What?"

Dylan looked at him with a sympathetic gaze as he stated, "Look, I know it's not easy starting over and I'm probably just another person to you, but I know what it's like to have everyone against you. It sucks and I don't ever want someone else to have to go through that." At Marco's questioning stare he continued, "All I'm trying to say is that life's easier if you've got at least one person on your side. It doesn't have to be me, but just give this place a chance okay? It's not as bad as you might think." He gave Marco's backpack an amused smile before directing his eyes to Marco's. They lingered there for a few moments, twinkling in their friendly way before he turned and disappeared around a corner.

Marco found himself just standing there with a slightly bemused expression, staring down the empty hallway. He shook his head after a few moments, his mind too boggled to really know what he was thinking, before continuing down what he hoped was the right way to his locker. He was beyond late, but he figured, being the new kid and all, he'd receive some sort of leniency for his tardiness. So, like any normal teenager would do, he decided to milk it a bit. Marco took his sweet time slowly placing his tattered belongings in his rustic locker, taking care not to peel off anymore paint from it then necessary. It was already almost down to the bare metal.

Marco shut it with a sigh and nervously fiddled with the hem of his shirt for a moment before he heard the bell ring again. He seemed to have missed homeroom. The hallways flooded with people. People with names and faces that Marco neither knew nor cared to know. He was alone, though hundreds of people brushed past him. Loud scuffles of shoes and the chatter of voices invaded his hearing, but he felt himself detached from it. Like he was another form of species rather then just another new student. Their words made no sense to him, held little importance to him, because they lived a totally different life then the one Marco had been force to lead these past few years. He couldn't remember what it was like to smile genuinely at someone, yet these people managed to do it thousands of times a day. Even Marco's laughter had ceased to sound like his own. It was more robotic. Forced. And he hated it.

But that night...that _one_ night had changed everything for him. Made him seem like the enemy. Made _him_ lose whatever family and happiness he possessed.

And with this encouraging thought in mind, Marco chiseled a sheepish smile upon his face and walked in a random direction, looking purposefully lost and forgetting completely that he should see the principal. He latched on to the friendliest looking person that he could find on such short notice and asked how he was supposed to get to his first period classroom.

The girl he had tapped on had shoulder length blonde hair and was a little shorter then himself. She had bright, crystal blue eyes that complimented her soft, glowing face. She looked a lot like Dylan, actually. However, Marco knew people, and he guessed, as a first impression, that she could very well be a force to be reckoned with. If he got on her bad side, that is. The girl's eyes appraised him for a moment before she smiled. "New student, huh?"

Marco nodded, brown eyes friendly and outwardly confident. Though, on the inside he was a little ashamed to say that he was more nervous then he'd ever care to admit. Being new was just one of those things that hardly improved with experience.

"It's pretty easy actually. You just go all the way down the hallway, make a right, go up the stairs, take a left down the second hallway and it should be three doors down."

Dumbfounded, Marco said, "Do you have this place, like, memorized or something?"

The girl laughed again and conveyed, "You could say that. I'm Paige, by the way."

"Thanks a lot. I'm Marco del Rossi." He flashed her his award-winning smile.

She smiled back before she suddenly looked at him in the same curious way that Dylan had and asked, "Wait...Do you know a guy named Carlos? Senior? Looks a bit like you, now that I think about it."

Marco's face tightened a little, but he kept the smile in place as he answered pleasantly, "Yeah, I think so?" Maybe she wasn't talking about _his_ Carlos. Maybe...

"Did you know you two have the same last name as him?"

Unsure of how to react, Marco had opened his mouth to answer but closed it and pretended to look confused. "Really?"

"Yeah," Paige nodded. "But he's an only child so I know you two aren't, like, related or anything." She suddenly looked thoughtful and stated, "We thought he had a brother a couple years ago, but he told us that it was just some odd coincidence." She rolled her eyes amusedly. "Funny eh?"

Ouch. That hit Marco right in the heart. Carlos was denying the fact that he even had a brother to the _world_ now. That was a new low. He found it hard to breathe and he suddenly, desperately, wanted to be alone. "Yeah, um, funny. Listen, I'm not feeling well, so I think I'm just going to go to the nurse actually for a while."

She looked surprised. "Oh, okay. I hope you feel better. Maybe I'll see you around?"

He managed to give her an apologetic smile and a 'Yeah of course!' before he all but fled from her sight.

* * *

Dylan walked easily down the empty hallway towards his locker, not in any particular hurry as it was the first day of school. What could he possibly be informed of, being a senior, that he didn't already know? It wasn't like he was new or anything to the surroundings or curriculum.

Not like that new kid. Marco, he had said his name was. Dylan shook his head amusedly at himself as he remembered how hard it was to stop himself from dropping his jaw in awe at the boy.

Marco, in so many words, was drop dead gorgeous. The blonde's heart had skipped a beat when he saw him round the corner, frustratingly (yet it seemed cute to Dylan) kicking his books down the hallway and looking like he was about to drop kick them next. It was one of those moments where the world seemed to move in slow motion. Dylan had never had an experience like that before. Normally, though he didn't know it, the feelings were reversed. In that split second he had been able to take in his perfect, Italian tan skin tone and his beautifully dark hair that was swished to the side, making Dylan have such an irrational desire to run his fingers through them.

But he was at least a year or two younger then him. He couldn't go for someone that young, it was practically illegal.

...Wasn't it?

The bell rang and the hallway became bombarded with people as his sensible suddenly gave him a quick kick in the head. _Oh shut _up_ Dylan, seriously. Aren't you forgeting a kind of key point to all of this?_

Oh.

Right.

There was the fact that Dylan Michalchuk was gay. That could possibly, more then likely, be a problem.

It wasn't often that Dylan met a guy that he found himself attracted to that wasn't straight. It was a frustrating and damn near maddening fact of Dylan's life, but he'd come to accept it. Though it hadn't been willingly. But this guy..._Marco_ seemed like he would be the most disappointing in Dylan's life, because he'd never felt such a...he wasn't even sure how to describe it. Maybe pull? Yeah, he'd never felt such a _pull_ towards another guy, or person really, in his entire life. _You know what? I should just stay away from him completely. Spare the future heartache,_ Dylan thought somberly to himself.

He straddled over to his first period class in a daze of disheartenment. Really, it had been too long since he'd gone out on a date. He could barely remember who his last date was _with. _Dylan sighed loudly as he walked through the doors, not bothering to cover up the disgruntled expression that showed plainly on his face. The blonde was not one to hide his emotions. He was the type of person to let you know exactly what he was thinking and he didn't care whether you approved of it or not.

People shot him curious looks but he just rolled his eyes at them and sat down. However, as soon as he did the teacher called him up to her desk. Figuring it was because he skipped homeroom, he frowned and walked up, his speech already prepared in his mind before she surprised him by handing him a blue slip. He glanced down at it before shooting his teacher a puzzled expression. The pass was for the principal's office.

Dylan crumpled it up, shoved it in his pocket and slinked out the door, hearing the catcalls and the 'OOO DYYLLAANNN!'s follow him out.

The entire way there Marco had been temporarily pushed from his mind as he went over all the things that he could've done to earn him a meeting with the principal. _Maybe it's just to, I don't know, discuss which University or College I'm going to? _But if that were the case then he'd be going to his Guidance Counselor. _Skipping homeroom on the first day of school is _so_ not bad enough to go to the principal's office,_ Dylan thought exasperatedly. Really, it was too early in the morning for this. He walked through the Main Office and knocked on the door.

"Come in," came Mr. Raditch's voice, and Dylan obeyed. He sat down in the big, squishy chair in front of the desk and looked quizzically at his principal. "Listen, Dylan," Mr. Raditch started with his infamous defeated tone. He had a worn, wrinkled face, grey hair and mustache, and a slightly plump physique. His sigh was Dylan's cue to start worrying. "You like to play hockey right?"

The curly blonde looked at him incredulously. That's what this was about? To confirm whether, after nearly thirteen years of hockey, he actually enjoyed it. Wow. Was that a stupid question or what? That was like asking a fish if he liked to swim or a chef if he liked to cook. But he nodded politely nonetheless.

"And you want to continue to play hockey, right?"

Again, Dylan fought back the urge to roll his eyes or groan exasperately and nodded, though his mind commented on it with severe sarcasm.

"Well, I'm afraid your marks from last year were...well, below adverage," Mr. Raditch told him, fiddling with his square glasses. "And the rules state that if you can't keep up an acceptable GPA, then you won't be allowed to continue playing."

Dylan was taken aback. This was _definitely_ not what he had been expecting. "What?"

"You're marks...they, well, they sucked to be quite honest with you," Mr. Raditch said bluntly. "And to be allowed back on the team you need to maintain a 'B' average in all of your classes."

"But I...that's all I have to do?"

"Yes. But until we can see that you can pull your grades up...you're on athletic probabtion." Mr. Raditch said this like he was bracing himself for a car collision.

Dylan sat there, stunned. _Athletic probation?_ "I...you're...stopping me from playing?"

"Until we're sure you're able to balance both you're academic responsibilities and athletic ones, yes, I'm stopping you from playing right now."

"What...how...will that...?" Dylan couldn't even speak right now. Anger, he was sure, would come swiftly and in full force later, but right now he hadn't even let this soak in yet. _Athletic probation?_

"Don't worry, it won't effect your 'Captain' position on the team _this time_. But if you can't keep your grade up to an accepctable standard, it _will_ effect your position, do you understand?"

"Yes." Dylan replied stiffly.

"Good. You're free to go," the principal dismissed him.

Dylan stepped out of his office at the right moment. The anger finally came. _How exactly am I supposed to just up and tell my team that their Captain is on 'athletic probabtion?' "Oh, I don't know when I'll be back but until then just go out there and play and pretend like I'm there, it's no big deal." Yeah, great choice you made guys, making me Captain. I may show some sort of leadership on the ice but a fat lot it's going to do if I can't even get there in the first place! This is so fricking ridiculous, why couldn't they have told me about this last year? Or _warned_ me about it at least? _

_Maybe because you never come to homeroom? _A voice suggested in his head.

_Oh shut up,_ he wanted to hit something. So. Badly.

But his thoughts were interrupted when a sudden outburst that sounded like someone was in pain echoed through the hallways. It jolted through Dylan's senses because he thought he recognized that voice. Not very well, but still, it sounded like someone he may've met. Panic almost randomly replaced all his anger and instinctively, Dylan dashed to the bathroom where the cry had come from and threw it open in one loud bang.

* * *

Marco tore down the hallway, pushing past irate people and right into the bathroom. Luckily for him, no one was in it.

He bent over the sink like he was about to be sick and just took deep, soul-filling breaths. _Calm down Marco. Breathe. It'll be over soon. _He kept this thought constantly whirrling through his mind as he struggled to gain control over himself. _Mind over matter, c'mon del Rossi. _But using his surname did not help the situation like he had feebly hoped it would, or like he'd read about it books. All it did was remind him of his parents. His _real _parents, which then in turn, reminded him of what made him this way in the first place. It was always on his mind. No matter where he went, no matter where he tried to run, there it was. There _he_ was, always following him and trying to finish what he had started. And sometimes, Marco found himself wanting him to.

Marco looked into the drain of the sink he was hovering over and stared fixatedly at it, like it held all of life's questions swirling in its pipe. _Why couldn't life be simple? If life were simple, so many more people would, God forbid, actually _enjoy_ it. Not stare aimlessly down sink drains and talk to themselves. _But he couldn't pull himself away from it. Where else was he supposed to look? The mirror?

Ha.

As if.

He didn't need to look into the mirror to see how sleep deprived he looked. And it wasn't only looks; Marco _was_ sleep deprived. He couldn't, no, _wouldn't_ sleep anymore. Marco refused to. He wouldn't have those nightmares again. Not now. Not ever. He had tried so very hard to make sure of that.

Yet, despite his efforts, they always found him in the end.

They followed him like his shadow. In fact, they _were_ his shadow. His very own personal dark side that seemed to have projected itself outside his body and never left him. Running from it never helped, yet it was what he did best. The 'fight or flight' reaction no longer protained to him. There was only that heart-sinking, heart _pounding_ sensation that paralyzed him with fear for a few moments, before he bolted like a frightened deer.

Marco gritted his teeth. It was _him_ that made him this way. It was all _his_ fault that he could no longer have a normal life. A normal family. _He_ robbed him of that. He took it too far...he who found him no matter where he went, like he had promised him. Marco couldn't even say his name.

Marco found that his outside shell was the only thing that stopped everyone from writing him off as a freak. He had always been good at acting(except for today), and pretending like there was nothing plaguing him, nothing killing him from the inside out, was his finest act. It's the only thing that saved his sanity.

And he would never chance it again.

It tore right through him to know that he was broken. Shattered. Waiting for someone to look closely enough at him and see the tears that never formed. Look beyond the smile and see the light that had gone from his eyes so long ago. See him for what he really was, and care enough to try and fix it. There was only so much damage control he could do himself. The rest, was someone else's job.

He had been on his own, finding no comfort in his step-parents' consoling words when they first took him in. They were empty. They sugar coated the pain he felt, but made him crash even harder the next time he was alone. And they had begun to make him feel ridiculous. It was the same old song and dance, over and over again, and soon they became mere annoyances then anything else.

Now, however, he almost wished for those sweet condolences. As annoying as they were, they were better then the cold isolation they were now trying on him. Sure, they had acted like caring and understanding step-parents in the beginning when they first realized...when it first happened...but now it almost seemed like they wished he wasn't alive.

And they weren't the only one.

Marco needed someone to save him. Plain and simple. To read between the lines and put him back together. Throw him a lifejacket and save him from drowning. Make him feel whole again. Make him stop running away from the past that found him no matter where he went. But Marco had yet to find that person.

He sighed as he ran that all through his head, glancing towards the ground. The black and white checkered tile reflected his pained expression and he quickly looked away, shivering a little at how little he recognized himself. It had been so long. From what he had been able to see, his dark, almost black hair had grown some since he last looked, though, to be fair, he had gotten it cut numerous times. He just...never looked in the mirror when he did. It was swooshed to the side, mostly for the convenience of keeping it out of his face, but he had remembered how his mom had loved to see his hair this way. He never understood why, he didn't even like it much himself, but she did, and it had made her happy. So he never changed it. Stupid? Yeah, probably. But did that matter to him? Not in the slightest.

He looked like them, actually. He looked like them a lot, more so then Carlos anyway. Marco had his mother's dark hair and eyes but his father's height and smile. He wasn't built like Carlos or all of the football players and atheletes were, but he wasn't at all scrawny.

_(I'll find you, you scrawny-ass punk.)_

Oh no.

A horrifying, sneering face entered Marco's mind's eye. Oh. No.

His stomach twisted into knots as he gulped repeatedly, hands white and shaking. _Please...please, no, not now...please?_ he begged his conscience. He couldn't take another re-run of his nightmares. Marco could barely take going through them at night when he'd wake up gasping and crying. _Now_ he was expected to take them during the day too? No, no he wasn't going to take that without a fight.

He roared in a kind of pained fury, his voice echoing throughout the room as he shouted nonsense in his head to try and drown out the scenes that poked and prodded, trying to get through. _Shut up, just shut up and leave me alone! I may not be able to do this when I'm asleep, but when I'm awake you are _not_ going to get to me! You can't find me anymore, understand? The _real_ you is locked up! You're finally locked up so GET. OUT. OF. MY. HEAD! _Tears stained his eyes, peering precariously over his lower eye lid as if they were playing a game. As if they were taunting him as they waited to fall-

The door burst open and Marco, in surprise, whirrled around. His face went bright red to see Dylan standing there, looking wild-eyed and very confused. _Kill me, just kill me now,_ Marco groaned in his head. He was _very_ aware of how glassy-eyed and pathetic he looked.

"Marco!" Dylan said in shock. _The scream came from _him? "Marco?" This time he sounded more confused as a pause followed. Marco looked like he'd like nothing more then to sprint out of the room, but he seemed frozen to the spot. "Are...are you okay?" _Well obviously not you idiot, _Dylan thought dryly, but he really was troubled to realize that that horrifying cry came from him. At first, the only thing that came to his mind was, _'Was going here really that bad?'_ until something else suddenly struck the older boy. _Was it something else?_

He watched as Marco attempted to stammer out a sentence. "Um yeah. I'm fine. Um, I'm uh just gonna go..." he trailed off as he tried to dart around Dylan so he could curse his humiliation in peace.

But Dylan stepped in front of him. He looked him in the eye carefully. "Is something...are you...was that-?" He couldn't even string two words together. Not with those powerful eyes looking at him. They sort of sucked Dylan in, so much that he didn't even know he was blabbering out words.

Marco had jumped away from the older boy's suddenly close proximity as if he had been burned. Dylan looked somewhat stunned to see how plainly fear showed in his face. Finally he mentally shook his head and asked a little forcefully, "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Excuse me, I have to go," Marco said much more smoothly, confusing Dylan even more. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Just calm down Marco. You need to get your act together del Rossi before you expose everything! Just get out of there, ASAP!_

"But-"

But Marco had every so swiftly dodged around the completely baffled blonde and out of his sight. Dylan stared after him, feeling the almost over-powering urge to follow him out and demand an answer. It was no secret that Dylan had to be the most curious person alive.

Now, the only thing that Dylan could think was, _I'm going to find out what's up with him. _It didn't matter what he had promised himself earlier before. Dylan never backed down from a challenge or an unsolved puzzle. And that's what he felt Marco was. A problem to be solved. A person that seemed intent on keeping certain things a secret, and that was not going to bode well with Dylan. He left the bathroom feeling that, for the time being anyway, his hockey life seemed to have been replaced with a different purpose.

* * *

Marco didn't stop running until he was well clear of the bathroom. He could've very well stopped a while ago, as he didn't think Dylan would actually follow him, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to rest until he was panting and leaning up against a random pair of lockers. It was a big enough school for that. Marco closed his eyes and tried to rid the feelings that were both new and familiar to him.

The old feelings were rather easy to distinguish. Fear, pain, sorrow, and smack-yourself-in-the-forehead humiliation weren't strangers to him.

But the new feelings weren't quite so simple. There was no denying it; Dylan was _the_ most attractive person Marco had ever seen.

Yep.

That's right. Marco del Rossi, the new kid was gay.

It was a problem for Marco because he was so afraid of his past that he couldn't even fathom a future of...well, of anything other than making sure said past events never happened again. He was starving himself of happiness because he was so afraid _of_ being happy, of being comfortable, and having it all crash down around him. Marco'd learned that the hard way, but what he hadn't learned was how to move on. The only thing that could clearly be made out in his head was, _'Marco, seriously, stay away from this guy. He's too...well, extremely good-looking for this to end well.' _But underneath all this loud denial, came a whisper of tentative reasoning. It was a soft voice that was drowned out by the obnoxiousness of his more hard-headed and outspoken conscience, but still, it was there and it had finally found a voice. _'He could be good for you, you know. Don't be so afraid to smile.'_Marco walked confidently into his now second period classroom. Granted it was the end of it, but at least he'd been able to get there at all. He gave his teacher the most apologetic yet amused-with-himself smile as he stepped inside. His smile must have told her some story of getting lost or a story along those lines because she simply smiled back and allowed him to take his seat without a fuss as she continued speaking. But that's not to mention the fact that he'd always had a great connection with teachers. Don't ask him why, they just all seemed to like him for some reason.

* * *

As Marco took his seat a rather bewildered-sounding guy whispered in his ear from the desk directly behind him, "Dude, how in the hell did you do that?"

Confused, Marco turned slightly in his chair to look back at him with slightly raised eyebrows. The student had blonde, curly hair like Dylan's(though his soft inner voice kindly pointed out to him that it didn't look as good as Dylan's) and dark brown eyes that regarded him with some admiration. "Do what?"

"Like, _not_ get in trouble for being late. That's _Mrs. Kwan." _He said that like it should mean something to him.

"Dude," Marco mimicked the guy's voice good naturedly as he smiled. "I'm new. The teacher's name explains absolutely nothing to me."

The guy rolled his eyes. "Mrs. Kwan is like the she-devil of Degrassi!" His curls seemed to shudder with emphasis before he held out his hand for a high-five. "You have automatically earned my respect. That, and I'll be sticking with you all year so you better get used to it. I'm Spinner."

Marco laughed, though quietly so Mrs. Kwan wouldn't notice, and replied in a whisper, "Good to know. I'm Marco."

Spinner waggled his eyebrows. "So, fresh meat eh?"

"I've been called worse," chortled Marco. But he cocked his head to the side and looked somewhat self-conscious. "But can I, uh, ask you something? Is Spinner, like...you're actual name or is it just a nickname?" He tried to say this in an airy way so as to not embarrass him if it actually was but..._Spinner?_

Spinner grinned. "Nah. It's a nickname. My _real_ name's actually...Gavin." He cringed a little at hearing it aloud. The clear contempt for his birthname showed plainly in his face.

"Okay...Gavin. Gotcha. But here's a question...why _Spinner?"_

Spinner rolled his eyes. "Being declared crazy by your friends doesn't come without a price."

Marco smirked. "'Makes sense. So _Gavin-"_

"If you have a death wish, keep calling me Gavin," Spinner mock warned, interrupting him.

Marco chuckled as the bell signaling the end of second period rang; he'd talked through the entire rest of class. Spinner and Marco rose in unison and walked out together, trying to not get stampeded by the crowd behind them.

Suddenly, the girl that Marco had met before, Paige, appeared magically beside Spinner and kissed him, obviously displaying who she belonged to, before glancing beside him at Marco. It took a double take for her to fully remember who he was. "Marco!" she squealed, her blue eyes alight with surprise. The way she said his name would've made you think they were best friends.

Marco smiled, slightly bemused, as Paige, not missing a beat, instantly asked, "How're you feeling hon?"

The Italian shrugged, masking his would-be guilty expression. "Better I suppose. The nurse just said it's probably the 'nervousness of being at a new school' and sent me back after she took my temperature." He invented this wildly but delivered it with such conviction that both Paige and Spinner fell for it without question.

"Sucks," Spinner offered though he still looked confused about a few things.

Paige nodded sympathetically. "She's not the _best_ nurse in the world." As they walked down the hallway, both Spinner and Paige dove quickly into a long stream of questions that they threw at him like it was nobody's business. He felt somewhat harrassed as they kept bombarding him with questions and he tried to answer as quickly as he could. Marco felt like they were playing the 'say the first thing that comes to your mind' game. At one point, he even shouted,

"Uhfim!"

"What?" Spinner looked highly amused.

Marco smiled, slightly embarrassed, "Spinner, I don't even know. You're both going too fast, it just kind of came out."

Paige giggled and shook her head at her new friend. "Fine, we'll go slower. So why'd you move?"

_Uh oh,_ Marco's brain suddenly froze. _He couldn't answer that. Damn. _"Oh...um-"

_"Will Marco del Rossi please report to the Main Office." _Came a clear voice over the intercom. _"Marco del Rossi."_ There was a click and incredible relief flooded over him. _Saved by the bell._ He smiled apologetically at them before heading off in what he hoped was the direction of the Main Office. It vaguely registered in his mind that he might not see them the rest of the day which hopefully meant he'd never have to answer that question.

He shuddered as he turned down every which way until, mildly exasperated, he found himself outside the Main Office. He tentatively peeked his head in first and looked around sheepishly. It was a nice looking place, though nothing he hadn't seen before. What with the pretty but ordinary-looking wooden, glazed desks and green, plastic plants...he thought he should feel right at home. "Um, hi," he announced to the secretaries who were busily tapping away on their keyboards. Again, nothing unexpected. "I'm, uh, new and I was supposed to meet with the principal?"

The one in the front glanced up and said, "Just hang out in the chairs for a bit sweet pea, he'll be right out."

"Alright," he smiled his award winning smile and plopped down in a chair. He picked up a magazine and flipped through it(mind carefully steered away from all trains of thought), not particularly interested, and waited.

After a few minutes a slightly plump looking man with grey hair stepped out of an office. He was rather nicely dressed but his face gave away the weariness inside. "Ah, Marco del Rossi I presume?" the man asked in a boisterous manner that seemed so unlike him. He extended a hand as Marco lifted himself up and smiled warmly at him, shaking it. "I'm Mr. Raditch, your new principal."

"Hi," Marco responded, smiling a sunny smile he didn't really feel. He followed Mr. Raditch into his office and sat in the rather disfigured-looking cushion of the chair. Marco eyed it in an odd way, almost amusedly wondering how many people had had to sit in it to make it look like a withered bean bag, before sinking into the chair himself. He wiggled around a bit, trying to make himself more comfortable.

Yup. Just like a bean bag.

The arms on the chair were knarled and chipped, making it rather uncomfortable to place his hands on them so he kept them clasped in his lap. Mr. Raditch seemed to be watching Marco with interest before snapping out of his reverie and stating, "Well, first off I want to say welcome to Degrassi. We're lucky to have you." Marco inwardly smirked at this speech, as it sounded like the principal had said it so many times that the words seemed to have lost its meaning. He could be blurting out in pig latin and it would've made no difference to him. "Now I don't want to keep you too long from your classes, since I assume you're still trying to figure out how to get to all of them."

Marco nodded and regarded him with intelligent eyes as for the next good fifteen minutes the principal scrounged around for paperwork that needed to be signed. He kept his mind carefully blank and focused on the pile slowly forming in front of him.

"There...there, I think that's everything," Mr. Raditch finally announced, sounding harrassed.

Marco bit back a laugh and smiled at his new principal. "Thank you, Mr. Raditch. I'll make sure my, um, step-parents sign these tonight."

He nodded. "Good. Now, do you need someone to show you around?"

Marco paused for a split second before shaking his head 'no.' He was used to being on his own.

* * *

Review please! :)


	3. Chapter 2

**Warning: **Chapters may be freakishly long :P So I apologize in advance if you're one of those people who just want a short read :P

**Title: **_Between The Lines_

**Author: **Seasonal Dreamer

**Rating: **T

**Author's Note: **I would like to say a BIG THANK YOU to **maplebird** and **I C a big world** for reviewing my story! :D You guys are absolutely awesome, it really means a lot that you guys take the time to read my stuff :D 3

So, here's chapter two :) And don't worry, I know exactly how I'm going to end this story :D I just need to get there haha

Please Read and Review!

* * *

Marco hated those looks that his step-parents would give him. He hated them because it was the same one he saw in his own eyes when he used to look into the mirror. The Italian never did that anymore.

It was his eyes. They showed too much. Obviously it wasn't evident to the people around him, but you can't lie to yourself. His whole story was behind those dark walls, but he could see right through them. He used to get complimented on those eyes. Now he despised them.

The young boy never ate meals with his step-parents. Mostly because they didn't want him there, but he hardly did eat at all, to be honest, so it wasn't too big of a deal. It wasn't like he was forcing himself not to, he just never felt hungry anymore, and the food had lost its taste. He used to cook with his mom. He used to joke with his dad. But that day _he_ took more then just his sanity. _He_ had stolen his normalicy. Because that day, his parents finally discovered their son was gay, and paid so dearly for it. And it was almost surprising how much that little knowledge, accompanied with what _he_ had done, robbed him of.

Marco sat on his bed, fumbling with his fingers before his the first day of his second week of school, delaying the moment when he would have to go downstairs. Despite the over flowing confidence he showed at Degrassi, he was no better then the little girls who hide behind their mother's legs. He got the sudden impression that this school would be the hardest one to go to. Mostly, because of Dylan.

The older blonde appeared to have seen too much that first day. Marco would sometimes see him in the hallway, and half the time the blonde would shoot him odd, quizzical glances. Like he was trying to figure him out but some of the pieces were missing. The other times he would just smile warmly at him, but that curious look was still there. Though he knew that someone would have to if he were ever to be complete again, he wasn't sure he'd ever be fully ready to reveal what happened to him. It frightened him too much just to run through it quickly in his head, how in the world could he form the words to tell someone _else?_

Marco sorely wished it were possible to read minds. That'd solve all the world's problems. You'd know who loved you and who didn't, who were genuine people and who were fake. There'd be no more lies, no more deception. Just raw, honest truth. He felt it'd be a hell of a lot easier that way, though it wouldn't always be nice.

The boy had toyed with the idea of begging his step-parents to take him out of that school and transfer him to somewhere else the first day he got back. He contemplated telling them some cock and bull story about how he was treated badly there. But he figured that wouldn't work too well, as it didn't seem to bother them too much whether he was happy or not.

Marco would just have to stick it out. But man, he didn't want to. He glanced up at the empty wall above his dresser. His mirror that had been attached to his dresser had been destroyed years ago. His step-parents hadn't bothered to get him a new one, because they knew it'd just happen again.

The trashing of it was on his shoulders, the removal was his step-father's. After one particularly bad day of dealing and battling with his conscience, he made the mistake of looking into it and right into his eyes.

He didn't like what he had seen there. They were the eyes of a mad man, but the kind that you'd find in the people who were shell shocked from war. You could just _see_ the pain, anguish, and fear in them. They were dazed with a distanced look, like the owner of these eyes were far away in a different time and place that you would pray to God every night you never got to visit. They held a long and winding tale that was treacherous and left a deep wound on his subconscience.

Yes. These were the eyes of a mad man.

But that, was exactly the problem.

Marco knew what it felt like strongly enough. Oh, he was no stranger to pain. But the last thing he needed was to see it reflected in himself. It only made the pain seem deeper and more unclean.

So he broke it. He had ripped his shoes off his feet and pelted them at the glass with a silent roar of fury in his head. But they hadn't had done what he wanted. So he looked for something heavier with nothing but the slightly crazy notion that if he broke it, he'd be free. It would have made absolutely no sense to someone observing the scene, but to him, it was perfectly logical and clear. Break the mirror, and he'd be healed.

Marco had little patience, so he grabbed the only thing he could throw at it at a moment's notice. His textbooks. So with a choked out sob of both anger and desperation, Marco had thrown that too, finally shattering it completely. Shards of glass sprayed everywhere, yet Marco kept his eyes open as if hoping some of it would fly into his eyes, blinding him forever. But every single one missed.

Marco didn't believe in superstitions anymore. He figured his life was it's own bad luck extremity, so he wasn't particularly bothered with the possibility of 'seven years of bad luck' after he broke it.

Heh. Imagine more bad luck being added on to him.

Though, to be honest it hadn't really picked up since-

_(YOU _ARE_ MINE!)_

-that day. Marco shuddered as the voice rang in his head. All he wanted to do was make it go away. But something started to scream in his head.

Was he crazy?

Was he crazy for constantly dwelling on this? Was he insane for thinking he heard his voice whenever something jogged his memory? _Was he going mad?_

He didn't have an answer to that. Hell, he might as well go crazy if this is what being sane felt like. But this gave him no comfort. He could lose his brother. He could lose his parents and step-parents and anyone else that ever entered his life. But if he lost his mind...well, then he'd have lost everything.

Marco couldn't take being alone any longer, but he couldn't take being downstairs with his step-parents. He wanted to go with the lesser of two evils, but as sad as it sounds, Marco was unsure of which one that was. The Italian checked the clock. It was still rather early.

Sighing, Marco slid off his bed unwillingly and lightly tip-toed down the steps. He crossed his fingers, praying that his step-mother and father wouldn't be in the kitchen so he could grab his backpack and run out the door. But life didn't work that way.

Marco slinked into the kitchen and reached for his bag. The stony silence that filled the room almost suffocated him. No one said hello or good morning, no one asked how he had slept, no one said one single word.

Until he reached the door.

"Marco? _Torna qui, abbiamo bisogno di parlare con te__**(Come back here, we need to talk to you.)**__._"

Marco cringed on the inside as he slowly backed away from the knob and slid silently back into the kitchen. The hardness of the atmosphere around him felt like another wave had crashed on top of him.

Great. This should be good.

Being an Italian family as well, the Lombardis prefered to speak their country's vernacular in their own home. Marco's ability to do this as well was one of the few things they approved of in him.

It was his Mrs. Lombardi, his step-mother, who spoke first. _"È tutto a posto a scuola__**(Is everything alright in school?)**__?" _The way she said it was flat, almost emotionless. Almost as if someone were making her do it. Like it was more of an obligation to ask then honest concern.

Marco nodded robotically. "Yes."

Mr. Lombardi eyed him suspiciously. _"Sei sicuro__**(Are you sure?)**__?" _Again, Marco gave a curt nod. His step-father shuffled the newspaper that lay in front of him up to his eyes and began reading again. _"Bene. Poi andate__**(Good. Then go.)**__."_

Marco extracted himself from that situation as fast as he possibly could as a loud shuffle and a happy, _'Good morning Carlos!' _poisoned his ears and followed him out. _Well that was painful,_ Marco could only think as he shut the front door. It didn't surprise him, really, that Carlos had been greeted this way. Marco had never been the favourite, even before this whole incident had happened. With his parents or friends alike. It was always Carlos. Marco had never once met a person who knew both Carlos and himself...and liked him more. It was always, _always_ Carlos. The Lombardis were living proof of that.

It was sad, Marco decided, that he thought he was damn lucky these people decided to keep him.

* * *

Dylan drove to Degrassi in a kind of peaceful stupor, mind blissfully numb as he rolled down the window and felt the still summery air breeze through his curls. His surroundings were all too familiar for him to really notice them, but they were beautiful. The sky was still relatively dark and he was pretty early, but he did this every morning. He always came early to school, not because he absolutely _loved_ Degrassi, but because there was something oddly fascinating about being the only one in a usually crowded grounds that drew him in.

But now as he drove through the normally deserted-looking neighbourhood, something struck him as odd. His eyes shot up to the rearview mirror and he saw a rather peculiar looking lump sitting stock still on the curb. Dylan normally wouldn't have given this a second thought, but it unnerved him slightly. That lump had never been there before.

Giving in to his probably irrational unease, Dylan turned into a cul-de-sac and drove back, moving at a snail's pace. The older blonde strained his eyes to peer out his window, trying to make out what that lump was in the dark. His eyes widened when he realized who, not what, it was.

Oh God.

Marco was sitting in a slumped up position, eyes closed and fingers massaging his pounding forehead. No sooner had he made it out of his house then he had decided to just pop-a-squat on the curb and give his mind a much needed break from everything. The Italian trusted in the darkness to give him some privacy as he struggled to also not fall asleep on that very curb. It wouldn't do well to be found lying sprawled out on the sidewalk for his neighbours to see, but he was so frickin' _tired._

_"Marco?"_

Okay.

That had to be the very _last_ voice Marco expected to hear. His head flew up in utter bewilderment to find a car parked just in front and an equally surprised blonde staring back at him. How did he not hear the car pass by?

"Oh, uh, hi. Um, this looks weird but I can explain," Marco said quickly, gesticulating briefly to the curb. An embarrassed flush worked its way up his neck to his cheeks.

Dylan's eyes never left him as he said in an almost firm way, "Great. You can tell me on the way there," and unlocked the passenger door. Marco hesitated, wishing he could just disappear or melt into the concrete beneath him as his eyes darted for a way to escape. But Dylan looked like he would hunt him down if he tried to run, so with a sigh Marco stood up and opened the door.

The hockey player drove slowly as an uncomfortable silence settled between them. "Uh, thanks for the ride," Marco offered awkwardly, voice hushed.

"No problem."

Silence.

"Are you going to tell me _why_ you were locked out of your house?" Dylan said this a little exasperately. It made him angry that this boy was sitting alone on the curb, whether he knew him well or not.

Marco gave him a crooked smile, hoping to somehow distract him. "You always seem to catch me at the worst times, don't you?" The flush remained on his cheeks and the more he wished it away the redder it became. A nervousness pulsated through his entire body and he fiddled with his fingers, glancing into the rearview mirror every five seconds. He knew he shouldn't...but he couldn't help but wonder if Carlos or the Lombardis had noticed someone picking him up. Would they even care? Wouldn't the thought of _him_ coming back for Marco cross their minds? And if it did...would they be worried or...not?

"So the reason is...?" No way was Dylan going to let him get away this time.

Marco shrugged evasively, still glancing in that mirror. "No reason. Just sitting." He didn't know what else to say. This had caught him completely offguard. How does someone go about preparing their cover-up story for something that was a split-second decision and lasted for all of three minutes?

If Dylan hadn't looked angry before, he sure did now. "So I'm just supposed to believe you were sitting on that curb, in the dark, for fun." He fumed and he flexed his fingers on the steering wheel like he was itching to do something. Marco briefly wondered what.

The younger boy hurriedly conveyed, however, "Look, I know how it seems but really, it's no big deal." _Yes it is. It's a very big deal._ But Marco was still trying to get over the fact that someone was asking him this. That, and he'd been stupid enough to get caught at least twice in totally humiliating and unexplainable situations.

Dylan's eyes flickered between the road and Marco's anxious face, and his voice changed to something softer. "Maybe not, but wouldn't you find it strange if you found someone just sitting in the dark with their head in their hands?"

Damn. "Well I guess, but I wasn't like kicked out or anything." How could Marco explain this without diving in to the whole story of-?

_Watch it Marco. _Those blue eyes seemed to x-ray him, and it made Marco feel uneasy. Not to mention the fact that those blue eyes were making his heart do loop-de-loops in his chest. It was such an odd combination of emotions that Marco was completely confused by them. He didn't know what it meant, the heart fluttering thing, but he was scared to find out.

Dylan observed him with astute scrutiny. Marco looked worried. No, more then worried. He looked terrified. Like Dylan had seen something he shouldn't have, yet the older boy was absolutely clueless as to what that could be. _Was_ things at his house worse then he was letting on? Dylan couldn't help but notice how Marco avoided his gaze, like he was afraid Dylan might see something in them that would break his already shattering façade, and how he kept looking in the mirror like he was expecting something. Or rather, _hoping_ for something. The blonde knew he should just accept Marco's story and leave it at that, but his interest had been piqued. Finally, not knowing what else to say, he just muttered, "I see."

As they pulled into Degrassi's parking lot he could've sworn he heard Marco murmur faintly, "Do you?"

* * *

A month had passed and gone and Marco had met a number of people, but only a few of them, though, he saw real potential friendship with. Paige, of course, and Spinner were first on the list, but following them was a girl named Ellie Nash who he took an instant liking to. She was a bit gothic and outspoken, but Marco respected that immensely and they had _a lot_ in common. She had a deep red hair colour, brown eyes, and a beautiful face. However, most people couldn't look past the dark make up and clothes, therefore labeling her off as a freak. But Marco saw in her everything that other people didn't, and Ellie seemed to appreciate this, though she didn't seem like the type of person to ever admit it, which the Italian was cool with.

He'd also met Jimmy Brooks, aka Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected and Degrassi's basketball star. He was levelheaded and honest, obviously not one to over-react about too many things, which Marco saw as a redeeming quality. Not too many people could say they could handle basketball, school, art lessons, and band practice on almost a daily basis without having a few breakdowns now and again, but somehow Jimmy made it work. It was as if stress were his friend and he functioned better with it then withour it.

Ashley Kerwin had some similarities with Ellie in terms of their gothic lifestyle, but she was more into poetry and music then Ellie was, and seemed sort of fragile. She had brown hair that was more on the darker side with matching eyes. For now, Ashley seemed to like to wear her hair in small little ringlets, though he had been warned that she liked to change her hairstyle drastically from time to time.

Craig Manning was the 'stud' of their grade. He was in a band with Jimmy and Spinner as the lead singer and was very kind to the people around him. He had slightly curly, short brown hair, brown eyes, and was relatively tall. Craig seemed to be the most normal out of the three, though Marco had heard rumours about his abusive father.

Mostly, Marco seemed to have befriended the talented and the troubled people of their grade, which fit Marco perfectly since he seemed to fall into that category as well, though he wasn't as open about it as they were.

Marco had seen Dylan from time to time in the hallway, but mostly he tried to keep his distance. Not, really, because he honestly wanted to, but because he didn't know what would happen, and that was what scared him the most. The uncertainty. Not to mention the fact that all three times he'd ever spoken to him were unimaginably awkward, something he'd often think about with a wry smile. Thank God the senior seemed to be as unconcerned about the Italian as Marco pretended to be.

But Dylan wasn't as oblivious as Marco liked to fool himself to believe. He watched Marco like an artist would study a painting. With careful consideration and a keen eye for detail. He watched how, when the younger boy thought no one was looking, he would fall into lapses where it seemed an internal war was going on. You could almost see the gears clicking away behind his slightly knitted eyebrows and the fire that would erupt in his eyes. Until it got extinguished by being brought back to reality where a smile would be chiseled on to his face for everyone else's sake but his own.

It was these moments that reminded him of the bathroom scene and the car ride. What on Earth had caused that look of utter turmoil to leap into his eyes? And more importantly, why did Dylan care so much?

But right now, as he stared unblinkingly, only the ghost of Marco's whispered, _"Do you?"_ vibrated in his mind. That was a silent cry for help if Dylan ever knew one. But how could Dylan help him if he didn't even _know_ him?

"Yo, Dylan."

"Mmph?" Dylan responded, not taking his eyes off his target.

A rather large figure sat to his right, just within his line of vision. "Look, I know new kids are interesting and all, but really, give it a rest."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He couldn't help a tiny amused grin float across his face as he saw his friend roll his eyes exasperately out of the corner of his eye.

"If I didn't know any better, which I probably don't, I'd say you liked him."

_Now_ Dylan whipped his head around and away from Marco to stare openly at his friend in shock. "What?"

He smirked triumphantly. "I knew it."

The thought had never even crossed Dylan's mind. Infatuated, sure. But _like?_ Now that was a new one. But now that the seed had been planted, there was no stopping the thought from growing. Did he? Is that why he was trying so hard to find out what was wrong with him? Dylan knew he was attracted to him, there was no question about that. But had, unbeknownst to him, that mere attraction grown to something more in the brief span of contact that they'd made?

Was it so hard to believe that?

Whether it was or not, Dylan knew one thing was for certain; he sure as hell wasn't about to let _Nathan_ think so. "Go away Nathan."

Nathan leaned back easily into his chair, lifting the front two legs off the ground and beamed at his friend. He had an odd sort of rustic hair colour, light brown eyes, and was pretty muscular. Not that Dylan had ever seen Nathan as anything more then just his best friend, but still, you couldn't help but notice these things. "So are you going to tell him or should I?"

Instead of answering him, Dylan simply unfolded his arms and shoved Nathan's shoulder lightly, but hard enough to cause him to almost topple over. His eyes went wide and he quickly caught himself on the library's table before returning to his previous simper. "Hostile are we?"

"More like annoyed." But his friendly smile said otherwise.

Nathan shook his head and stood. He grabbed the closest book off the shelf and smacked it into Dylan's face. "Fine, but unless you want him to get overly creeped out by you just staring at him like that, I suggest you try a little harder to blend in Mister Conspicuous."

Dylan grinned at Nathan's retreating back and hide his face behind the book as he continued to watch Marco. They were at the school's library. Marco, obviously, came here to read. Dylan? He came for Marco.

Marco came here everyday after school, sometimes just sitting there with nothing to do but stare at his own fingernails. Almost like he was trying to prolong the moment when he'd have to go home. And instead of going to hockey practice like he would've if Dylan hadn't been put on academic probation, Dylan came here. The phrase, _'Everything happens for a reason'_ often came into Dylan's mind, but he had yet to find out what that reason was. But, even after all this time, Marco never noticed _Dylan. _Something Dylan was both frustrated and relieved about. How strange would it be if Marco did realize that everytime Marco was here, so was he. That Dylan's eyes followed him wherever he went. But the older boy had this odd yearning for Marco to see him. Maybe perhaps follow _him_ from time to time.

Dylan didn't really know why he was staring at him exactly. Marco wasn't doing anything interesting at the moment, just reading a book. His face held no emotion, though the book he was reading was a thriller. Dylan should know, he read the book himself and nearly lost sleep over it. But Dylan couldn't stop himself. No matter how hard he tried to distance himself from him, he couldn't help but follow and simply _watch_ this boy.

_Whoa, mayday, mayday! Earth to Dylan, Marco's looking at you! Get out of your stupid fantasy world and pay attention you big dolt!_ Dylan, having been lost in his own thoughts, had been staring openly and intensly at Marco for several minutes, finally alerting Marco on to what had been happening for the last thirty-one days. Though he didn't know that last bit of information. The Italian had his head cocked in a thoughtful way, not at all like Dylan would have expected. The boy didn't seem creeped out or annoyed, just...wondering. A polite interest so to speak, and it made Dylan blush and look away, silently cursing. But it confused Dylan yet again. Marco did act all bashful like he had in the car or the bathroom. Perhaps it was because this time it was Marco doing the catching instead of being caught.

The senior didn't dare glance over at him again and continued to pretend to read his own book, though he was very strangely aware to Marco's every breath and toss of his hair. It was like Marco were a radio station and Dylan was the channel's only dedicated listener. What was _wrong_ with him?

When, finally, Marco did decide to leave, he passed by Dylan's table slowly, almost tauntingly. Dylan, having kept his eyes stubbornly glued to the page he'd been on for the past fourty-five minutes, could've sworn he saw the faintest of smiles etched on Marco's face as he passed, running his fingers lightly and absent-mindly along the table like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like Dylan's heart _hadn't_ been spluttering more then usual and a tingling sensation _hadn't_ erupted all over his skin. But he should no sign of Marco's closeness as he read and reread the same line over and over again. _I open the back door and check outside. I open the back door and check outside. I open the back do-_ Gone. He was gone.

Dylan sighed, lowering the book. Why must he do this to himself? The guy couldn't be gay, there was no way in hell. And if by some small chance he was, there's no way someone that mysterious would go for someone so blant and obvious. Fate just liked to mock him this way. Besides...Marco seemed too, well...he seemed too distracted. Too distracted to notice _him_ anyway...He glanced down at his book and turned it over, vaguely aware that he had no idea what the book Nathan had whacked him in the face with was called.

_'Crazy.'_

Dylan laughed. Yup, that about summed it up.

He began to lean back and stretch his arms, distantly wondering how long he'd been there and guiltily counting how long it would take to be _back_ here when his eyes suddenly zeroed in on a yellow sticky-note stuck on the side of the table. Curious, Dylan looked left and right to see if anyone was watching him before he reached over to it, un-stuck it, and flipped it around. His eyes scanned the note quickly before grimacing slightly at what was written very neatly on it.

_Dear Mr. Inconspicuous,_

_You're not as unnoticable as you might think._

_Sincerely,_

_The Guy At The Library Table._

* * *

"Dylan? Seriously? Can you _not_ leave your disgusting hockey equipment lying around the house?" Paige cried from behind Dylan's back, beyond annoyed. "I mean, you're not even technically _playing_ so why am I still having to deal with this?"

"Mm?" Dylan mumbled absent-mindly, twirling the lime green sticky-note over and over in his hands. "Oh, sorry Paige."

Paige was rendered temporairily speechless. "Okay," she started as Dylan's younger sister suddenly appeared in his line of view, "What's up?"

Dylan glanced up from the sticky-note he had been observing with a slightly disoriented and confused expresison, like he wasn't completely sure where he was or what just happened. "What?"

Paige sat down across from her brother, a determined expression on her face. "No way would I've been able to bug you and you not say something sarcastic. Something's on your mind. Or should I say some_one."_ Paige smirked as she nodded her head at the sticky note that was now becoming worn do to constant contact with Dylan's fingers.

Dylan didn't even bother trying to feign surprise. Now that Nate had put the idea in his mind, there was no escaping it. Dylan liked Marco, and there was nothing he could do about it.

So he gave in.

"Marco del Rossi. You know him right?" Dylan sighed, bracing himself.

And as predicted, Paige squealed. _"No way!" _Her grin could've blinded the sun. "No way! Ohmigosh this is _amazing!"_

"Paige, shut up," Dylan growled, but he couldn't stop the faint flush from creeping up his neck.

"Did he write that?" She asked eagerly, nodding at the note again. "Is it a _looove _note?"

Really. This was getting sickening. "Paige!" Dylan shouted, throwing a pillow at her head. "Fine, if you must know he did write it but it's not a _love_ note."

"Then what does it say!" she demanded as she lunged at the note. Unfortunately for Dylan, his reflexes were too slow and Paige grabbed the note out of his grip.

"Hey!" Dylan yelled as he childishly attempted to steal it back. But Paige hopped up from her seat and sprinted into the kitchen and behind the counter with Dylan on the other side. "Paige, I'm serious! Give. It. _Back!"_

_"'You're not as unnoticable as you might think,'"_ Paige cooed. "What, were you like stalking him or something?"

Fed up and utterly embarrassed, Dylan lightning fast hopped on to the counter, slid to the other side, and ripped the note from Paige all in one swift movement. He stood beside her, momentarily pleased with himself before his eyes latched on to Paige's smug look and he deflated. "What do you want from me Paige?"

"I want to know if you and Marco are a 'thing,'" she responded bluntly, hands on her hips.

Dylan rolled his eyes. _"No. _Can I go now?"

"No," she mimicked. "Now I want to know why you and Marco _aren't_ a thing."

"Hm, well, gee Paige I don't know. Maybe because he's not gay?" Dylan retorted, his own frustration evident in his voice.

Paige raised an eyebrow. "And you're sure about this?"

"Do you know something?" Dylan looked at her almost too intensely.

She frowned. "No..." But then she smiled michievously. "But I could always find out."

"What?" Dylan exclaimed as she darted towards the phone. "Paige! _Stop!"_

"Just trust me on this." And the younger blonde began punching in Marco's number.

"Paige, stop it I'm serious!"

_"Hello?"_

Dylan's breath caught at the sound of Marco's voice. It sounded so...lovely.

"Hey Marco," Paige beamed. "What's up?"

There was rustling in the background before they heard Marco ask amusedly, _"Okay, no way does Paige Michalchuk call anyone just to say 'what's up?' So, spill. Why'd you really call?"_

Damn he's good.

Paige bit her lip, suddenly looking unsure. Obviously she'd counted on a bit more time to phrase her question correctly. "You know me too well."

_"Hard not to. Now quit stalling before I-" _But he stopped. Marco stopped mid-sentence and gasped rather loudly. _"Oh my God."_

If Dylan hadn't been paying attention before, he sure was now.

"What?" Paige demanded. "Marco?"

But the line went dead.

* * *

Tehe cliffhanger :)

Hopefully that will keep you guys interested for the next one ;)


	4. Chapter 3

**Title: **_Between the Lines_

**Author: **ME! :D

**Rating:** T

**Author's No****te: **I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO PUT THIS UP! It, honestly, has just not been my luck lately :P But I'm relieved to say that I've finally finished this chapter and I sincerely hope the next one won't take so long to write :P I think I've seriously written and re-written this part so many times that I could probably tell everyone it word for word :P lol but I hope anyone who has started reading this has stayed with me and I really hope this makes up for my completely-unlike-me absence :) Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You guys are awesome :D

Read and Review please!

* * *

_Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God..._

That was all that could register in Marco's mind as a forceful wave of nausea swept over him. Hand over his mouth, he all but broke down his closed bedroom door and flew to the bathroom and threw up noisily into the toilet.

When he was done, he sat back on his heels and rested his cheek against the cool sink, waiting a moment to see if he was well enough again to stand up. _That wasn't just there. I didn't just see that. _Marco's whole reasoning was that maybe if he pretended it wasn't there, then...it wouldn't be.

But of course...

He did see it. And that could only mean one thing.

Marco threw up once more before deciding to go back into his bedroom. But that decision alone took a great deal of courage and the vain hope that what he thought he saw was just an illusion his twisted mind tried to pull on him.

The Italian crawled back to his room on his hands and knees, heart pounding with anxiety. He slid over to his large bedroom window and took a deep breath before peering out of it. A wave of horror crashed over him and a strangled sound escaped his lips.

There was no mistaking that handwriting. Or that ring.

The letter hung on the closest branch of the large maple tree outside his window, practically smushed against the glass. How it got there, Marco hadn't the faintest idea and he didn't particularly want to imagine _him_ being so close to where he slept. His name was etched on the outside in that crude cursive handwriting of his as Marco's gaze, never faltering, latched on to it. The smooth, metal band of the ring _he'd _given him so long ago turned in the wind and sparkled in the sunlight, taunting him. Reminding him of why exactly it was that his life was just one wave of bad luck after another.

He was seriously starting to think he had a black cloud or something following him.

However, Marco's main point of curiosity was what that note said.

Did he dare read it?

Marco bit him lip, unsure. He couldn't very well leave it fluttering there, and the same went for the ring. But the _last_ thing the Italian wanted to do was, you know, actually touch it. Like it'd burn through his fingers or something.

So, naturally, Marco grabbed his gloves, pried open his window, and gingerly lifted both objects off his tree and flung it across the room. Feeling quite ridiculous, Marco crawled over to them, nose wrinkled in distaste, and ripped open the letter. He'd just leave the ring where it landed. Not that, you know, he actually knew where that was, but whatever.

Scanning it, Marco's normally olive complexion turned ghostly white. Never had the need to leave the house been so strong. Marco scrambled over to his closet, dropping the note on his pillow, feeling like _he_ could come barging into his house at any moment. The Italian had a time limit, he just didn't know how long that was.

"Where're you going?"

The sudden voice from behind Marco's back sent him jumping out of his skin and whirling around to find his older brother standing in his doorway, arms crossed and a stony expression plastered on his face.

The question, _'What the hell are you doing in my room?'_ came to mind, but Marco didn't ask. A bunch of shirts bundled in his arms, he instead answered harshly, "Anywhere. Anywhere but here."

Carlos snorted but didn't leave his spot. He just continued to watch Marco pack a duffle bag until it couldn't possibly hold another possession. "So, planning on telling me why exactly you've decided to jump ship?"

Marco froze for a moment but didn't answer. He pulled the bag on to his shoulder and attempted to push past Carlos, but he wasn't going to have it. Carlos pushed him back slightly and Marco became horribly aware of the fact that he forgot to pick up a certain piece of paper off his pillow, and how close Carlos was to his bed. _If he sees the note..._

"Well?"

Marco rolled his eyes angrily. "Why do you care Carlos? You haven't spoken _one word_ to me since Mom and Dad died." He couldn't say he felt satisfied to see his brother flinch at his words, but he'd use whatever he could to get Carlos away from him. Or get through to him, either one would do. Marco glared at Carlos before whispering, "You still think it's my fault, don't you?"

As much as Marco knew it couldn't have been and as much as he wanted other people to believe it wasn't, Marco still felt guilty deep inside. Like it _was_ his fault. And he expected Carlos to shout, _'Damn right I do!' _or _'I still do because it is!' _or even just punch him in the he didn't expect was Carlos' unchangable expression to melt and his face became sad and uncertain. "I don't know what to believe, Marco." Carlos almost looked pained, like it was killing him on the inside to have ignored Marco for so long as much as it had killed Marco for being the one ignored. Which was, you know, kind of weird to think about. The only affection Marco had ever known from Carlos recently was the fact that he was still alive. With all his appendages still intact. "I don't...you never told me what happened Marco! All you said was that you _'didn't mean for this to happen.'_ What do you expect me to think?"

Ah.

_There_ we go. _That's_ the Carlos Marco was used to.

"I expected you to believe me," Marco whispered quietly. Carlos looked stricken. Marco quickly grabbed the piece of paper, crumpling it in his grasp, and pushed past him. The older brother made no attempt to stop him from leaving this time, and Marco felt no emotion as he trumped down the stairs, not even bothering to take a last look around. He knew he'd have to come back at some point. Unfortunately. So Marco just pushed right to the front door and threw it open, starting off into the night.

* * *

"What was that?" Dylan exclaimed, looking at Paige confusedly.

But Paige just looked at her phone. "I'm not sure," she said as she bit her lip.

Dylan sighed and ran a hand threw his unkempt hair. "Well he didn't exactly sound happy." His boggled mind couldn't piece together what would've made Marco sound so scared but he didn't like it.

"I'm going to take a shower," Paige announced as she walked past him to the stairs.

"Wow, thanks for sharing," Dylan rolled his eyes and ignored the glare that was sent in his direction. However, not long after the water sounded from above him did he hear Paige's loud and rather obnoxious ringtone blasting from the living room. Dylan, being both extremely curious and easily irate, especially now, got up from his seat in the kitchen to look at the Caller ID and his heart stopped.

It was Marco.

Without a second's hesitation, Dylan flipped it open and asked a little too quickly, "Hello?"

_"Paige I-"_ but there was a brief silence. _"Do...I have the wrong number?"_

Dylan smirked as he replied, "Well, that all depends on whether you really are Marco del Rossi or not."

_"Dylan?"_

"The very same."

Dylan heard Marco sigh deeply and he tried not to feel a little hurt. _"Well, this is a little awkward."_

"What's wrong?"

_"Listen, I, um...I kinda need a place to stay. It won't be for ever," _Marco continued on hurriedly. _"But even just for a night would be great."_

Dylan's eyebrows furrowed. "And why's that exactly?"

_"Ah, details, shmetails. Point is it's raining and freezing out here and I'm bound to get run over at the rate of luck I'm having, so do you think it'd be okay? I don't mean to be pushy or anything, but if you can't I'd kinda like to know so I can ask someone else before the sun rises. Either that, or I'll just sleep in the gutters."_

Dylan didn't like the idea of Marco being stranded outside but he also wasn't sure how his parents would react to an uninvited guest staying the night...Ah, screw it. "Where are you?"

_"If I knew I'd tell you."_ He sounded frustrated, and the sound of his teeth chattering away echoed through the receiver. But then he sighed and said, _"I'll get there eventually, I know where you guys live."_

Dylan didn't like that idea either. "Marco, just-"

But he hung up.

* * *

Why exactly did Marco call her? Well, mostly because she happened to be the first person that came to mind, but he also wanted answers. For a little while he'd realised that, depite what he thought, Dylan _had_ been paying him attention. A lot of it, too, seeing as Dylan followed him to the library every day.

He just wanted to know _why. _

Marco strolled along the sidewalk, not caring that his hair was plastered to his head and he could barely see his hand in front of his face. With every step he took, he felt like he was getting safer. He felt like his past was slipping behind him, just as long as he kept going.

But why did that stupid note have to show up? With that ring too. That was unnerving. Marco was pretty sure he flung it down the drain, so how it ended up on his tree kind of weirded him out. Or, he supposed it would've if he wasn't so oddly numb at the moment. But why did he have to _keep_ getting found? Marco sighed as he thought this, feeling, for now, unnaturally calm. He figured it was some eternal punishment for him being gay, this cat and mouse game. Fate must be just laughing it's _head_ off at him right now, stuck in the freezing rain and silently wondering if he'll be able to last the night.

Marco walked across the grass and found himself alone in a seemingly abandoned park. Sure, it was creepy, but it seemed like the perfect place for him at the moment. Loneliness, sometimes, was more comforting. He ran his fingers along the wooden poles that held the platforms up, feeling the wet dirt smear his fingertips. The rain would wash the grim away. He only wished it could do the same for him.

Marco glanced down at the poorly scrawled, evil little letter that was still balled up in his fist. Normally, he would've thrown it out, told his step-parents, and move by the end of the week. But...he just didn't want to. He didn't want the stupid Lombardi's to drag him to some random area and be stuck with only them for company all over again. That was pure hell. Plus he, ahem, kind of, sort of didn't want to leave Dylan, and Marco was feeling rather stubborn at the moment.

But certain images kep circulating throughout his mind, as in how he happened to receive a certain ring in the first place. Marco felt disgusted with his memories. He shivered and rubbed his arms, not because he was cold but because he felt desperately like he needed to get clean. Start over and stop wallowing in his little cave of self pity and just _be happy._ Was that really too much to ask?

Marco kicked a rock and sent it flying into the darkness. Apparently it was, since he hadn't been able to achieve it yet.

_"All you said was that you 'didn't mean for this to happen.' What do you expect me to think?'" _

Marco had said he expected Carlos to believe him, but did he really believe it himself?

He blamed himself for his parents' death. But was he at fault? No, he didn't know that he would freak out and break into their house. No, he didn't know that coming home late to sort through his emotions meant coming home to find his parents dead and _him_ waiting there for him. No, he didn't know that returning the smile on the first day he met _him_ meant that it was the beginning of the end.

No, he just didn't _know._ And had he, he knew without a doubt he would've gladly changed everything. And that was enough for Marco.

He was still scared. He still felt, well, gross. But he felt a weight lift off him. A weight he never fully recognized until after it had left, and he felt a sense of relief course through him. Marco closed his eyes and he realised what this feeling meant. He hadn't forgiven himself completely yet, he wasn't sure he ever could, but this was at least a start.

* * *

Marco wasn't ready to face Dylan and a probably frantic Paige just yet. He almost wished he could've phoned someone else, someone much more _calm._ Like Ellie. Or Spinner. Or little children hyped up on candy and kool-aid. "It's too late now I guess," Marco chuckled half-heartedly to himself, twirling his phone and paper in his hands. So now begs the question...What on earth was he going to tell them?

"So you just, what, hung up and left him _stranded_ out there?" Paige cried, obviously outraged.

"Do you honestly think that if I knew where he was I'd be sitting here right now?" Dylan countered, the worry and downright confusion making him go crazy.

"Well go out and look for him, Dylan! You have a _car!"_

"Yeah, okay, Paige? These neighbourhoods are _huge." _Dylan replied wearily, massaging his forehead. "It would take me days to scour the thing, and that's with me _not_ getting lost or sleeping."

Her face was stony. "That's doable."

Dylan glowered at her. He was seriously getting tired of her attitude. "Look-" But a knock on the door cut him off. The siblings shared a look before they both raced to the door.

"Marco!" Dylan exclaimed, throwing it open.

There, Marco stood, looking unbelievably cold and shaking with a large duffle bag over his shoulder. His hair was plastered to his dripping face, but his eyes seemed more alive then Dylan had ever seen them.

Marco smiled apologetically, "Hi, um, sorry about this-"

"Marco!" Paige imitated Dylan, throwing herself at him.

Marco managed to catch Paige in a hug in time before he got knocked over. The Italian gave Dylan a incredulous look as the older teen laughed, relief making him giddy. "You'd think she hadn't seen me in a month," Marco chuckled.

Paige pulled back, grinning at first but then changing her expression into that of worry. "Are you okay?" she demanded frantically. "What happened?"

Marco hesitated. "Um, it's...more of a morning-coffee kind of discussion."

Dylan looked at him skeptically but helped him bring his stuff up to the guest room. After they set everything up, they just stood there as a few moments of awkward silence leeched through. Dylan cleared his throat. "So..."

Marco was staring uncomfortably down at his shoes, rocking back and forth on his feet. What could he say anyway? Hey, did you get my sticky note? Yeah, 'cause that would be an interesting conversation starter. So, to break the ice, Marco gave Dylan an appreciative smile and told him, "Um, thanks for letting me stay the night, I know it's a really last minute thing."

Dylan gave him a small smile. "So, uh, where will you go tomorrow? Back home?"

Marco bit his lip. Though he knew this conversation was bound to happen, he hadn't really thought much past 'Hey, if I don't get out of the rain, I'm going to die,' so he didn't really have a clear answer for him. "Um, I guess I'll just find a place-"

"The gutters?" Dylan smirked.

Marco laughed oddly, remembering their phone conversation. But the true concern in Dylan's eyes took Marco off guard. He wasn't used to people looking at him like that. "If I have to," Marco rolled his eyes, though he knew Dylan was serious.

"Look, I know it's not really my business...but if you need a place to stay I can talk about it with my parents. I'm pretty sure they won't want you on the streets anymore than Paige and I do, but if it has anything to do with your family or whatever...it'd be nice to know 'cause they're bound to ask you." Dylan told him simply.

Marco felt guilty. He knew Dylan, and Paige for that matter, deserved an explanation as to why they were housing him. But he hadn't exactly come up with a good enough lie yet. Which was abnormal for him because usually he was pretty skilled at thinking of them on the fly, but now his brain just seemed to be at a standstill.

So he spluttered out, hoping to get Dylan to leave it alone, "It's a, uh, long story, Dylan. A...very...long and complicated story, one that requires a good enough time span for me to tell it."

_Well, that's not suspicious,_ Dylan thought as he watched Marco struggle to spit that out. Dylan nodded slowly, looking at the younger boy curiously. "I have the time."

"Now?" Marco asked, surprised. _Damn._ "Won't Paige-?"

"I don't really care about Paige right now," Dylan interupted, pulling Marco down beside him on the edge of the bed. "So spill."

Completely unprepared, Marco stuttered, "Oh, uh, well, I used to, um, live here right? In Toronto?" Dylan nodded encouragingly, though this was new information for him. Marco took a deep breath, wondering how he could possibly worm his way out of this one. But the thing was, if he didn't start saying something soon, Dylan probably would never talk to him again. And this was oddly upsetting to the younger boy. So, to buy time, Marco figured with another heavy sigh that he'd better tackle the _least_ painful confession he'd have to make, seeing as lying seemed to be out of the question. Guess now was his time to come out of his newly reentered closet. "Listen, there's kinda one thing you should know about me in order for you to understand any of this, alright?" Marco gave Dylan a hard look.

Dylan nodded, smirking a little at the possible skeletons someone like Marco could have.

Marco, for some reason, couldn't stop smiling at himself, like this whole situation was absolutely hilarious. "I'm gay. So if you're a homophobic, I understand and I can gladly get out of your hair as soon as possible if you can refrain from killing me."

Dylan looked at the Italian, this little bit of news completely shocking to him. But then he burst out laughing. It was just so ironic. Dylan grinned, still chuckling, as he remarked, "I'm pretty sure I'm not homophobic, Marco, seeing as I'm probably one of the most openly gay people at our school."

Marco raised an eyebrow, trying to see if Dylan was now trying to lie to _him,_ because life just didn't _work_ like that. It was impossible. But...then again, he'd never heard of someone pretending to _be_ gay. Still, Marco simply disbelievingly chortled along with him, saying, "Oh, well, that makes this a little easier I guess."

Beaming and fully ignorant to the seriousness of the upcoming conversation, Dylan waved his hand good naturedly and said, "Go on, go on."

Marco's smile wavered as his gaze wandered down to his fidgeting fingers. "Well, um, when I finally, you know, came to terms with it I sort of just kept it to myself. You know, trying to 'stay in the closet' as long as possible. But after a while it started to get harder, especially when I met this...um, guy."

_Now_ Dylan stopped smiling. Was Marco about to tell him he was love sick or something? 'Cause that'd be absolutely fantastic. Obviously. The blonde winced internally, trying to keep his mind clear.

"His name was Derek, and he, uh, kind of pushed me into coming out. Except, you know, to my parents. He helped me feel more, well, comfortable with the idea."_Just get through it, pretend it's not happening._ "He was my first boyfriend." Marco's voice started to get quieter and more, well, angry and scared, and Dylan was thoroughly confused. "Things were going extremely well, but after a while things started to change. He started getting too...possessive. Too...abusive." Marco said the last word like it left a bad taste in his mouth, but he was still grinning, like he was detached from the whole situation.

Have you ever watched a particularly uncomfortable scene from a movie, and all you do is cover your face and laugh and grin to yourself because their awkwardness was making you awkward? Yeah, this was one of those times.

Dylan just stared at him as if waiting for the punch line. "You're not..._serious?"_ The blonde gasped, all former humour evaporated from his face.

Marco nodded silently, itching to leave the room and bang his head on the wall.

Dylan didn't know what to say. Partially because he couldn't believe that it was real. It was hard to, with Marco smirking like that. "I...Marco-"

Marco rolled his eyes, looking anywhere but at Dylan. "It's nothing," and he took his cue to leave the room.

But Dylan hopped up and grabbed his arm. Marco unwilling looked up and found Dylan gazing at him with a sort of hesiant fury that was undirected at him. "Where is he?" Dylan asked, his voice forceably controlled. And when Marco gave him a confused look, the older blonde stated, annoyed, "It's why you're here isn't it? Derek's here."

Marco nodded slowly, looking around a bit as if hoping for another way out. "Yeah...yeah he is. And he's found out where I live and I just don't want to face him again, alright?" Marco's eyes were now desperate. "I just can't."

Dylan's anger vanished immediately at that look, but not his determination. "We have to do _something_ Marco! Why haven't your parents done anything about this yet?"

Marco instantly tensed up. Oh _crap. _Marco forgot he never told anyone that the Lombardis weren't his actual parents. "Um...about that," Marco responded uneasily. "Well, um, first, they kind of have. It's why we move, you know? But, um, second, they're, um, they're not my real parents."

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Well I kinda figured that, seeing as your last name and your parents' last name don't match up."

Marco didn't even want to know how he knew what his step-parents' names were. He turned around and sat on the bed while Dylan remained by the door, puzzled. "But what you probably don't know," Marco's voice quivered as he spoke, the sadness _finally_ settling in on him now. "Is, well, why I have step-parents."

Dylan hadn't the faintest idea. "Divorce?" he offered delicately.

Marco snorted miserably. "I wish. Then they'd at least both be alive."

The blonde, stunned at first, felt horrible. "I'm so sorry," he consoled, putting an arm around him without a second thought. "What happened?"

The brown haired boy opened his mouth, but nothing came out for a few seconds except, "Derek."

Dylan's eyes went wide and his jaw went slack. He wasn't even sure if he was making the right connection. It wasn't possible. "Wait..._what?"_

Marco sat still for a few minutes, trying to get a handle of his anger and sorrow. He started fiddling with his sleeve, twisting and turning it subconsciously as a way to release his energy. "I...After he became...too much to handle, I told him - where there was a lot of people mind you, so he couldn't really do anything drastic - that I couldn't be with him anymore. I hated him Dylan," Marco all but glared in Dylan's direction to emphasize that point. "But still. After you're with someone for so long, as you probably know, it's still kind of a dependency shock. I had to wander around for a bit before I went home so I would be able to make it up to my room without my parents suspecting anything. But when I walked through the door..." Marco finally broke. Tears slid down his cheeks as he ashamedly folded his body so that his eyes could be buried in his arm.

Dylan was absolutely dumbfounded as to what he should do. Just a little while ago Dylan had been walking through his front door, happy and blissfully confused as to what he should do about that damn neon note. But now?

He walked over to where Marco sat and hugged the younger boy to him, not knowing what else to do. His anger at what Derek did was so all-consuming that it had even begun to shake his body slightly. Dylan had never been so furious.

"And the best part," Marco laughed miserably through his tears, obviously not noticing the silently fuming boy beside him. "Was he was still there when I got home. He was _smiling. _But then my brother pulled up to the driveway and Derek ran away, saying he'd be back later. Carlos...freaked out of course and...and I couldn't tell him what happened! I just couldn't form the words! And he still hates me for it!"

Dylan felt absolutely helpless. And irate. "That's...I can't even imagine...wait," Dylan looked at him strangely. "Carlos is your brother?"

Marco nodded, secretly a little peeved that _that_ was what stood out to him.

"But then...why...why hasn't he-?"

"Think about it for a second Dylan," Marco retorted. "Why on Earth would Carlos admit to having a brother like me? He _hates_ me. He thinks it's my fault that they're dead." Marco looked at his feet and added quietly, "And maybe he's right."

Dylan shook his head so hard that Marco could feel his hair whipping around him even as he stared at the floor. "No. It's not and you _know_ it's not. If I ever run into either of them I'll gladly kill them for you. Derek even more gladly." Dylan was definitely antsy by this point, wanting to do something to that..._'guy'_...that'd hurt Marco so badly.

Marco gave a watery laugh. Dylan obviously didn't realise just how serious this whole thing was, if he did he wouldn't have said that, but he was absolutely fine with Dylan thinking he could take out Derek for him. Heck, if he ever succeeded he'd help him bury the body. But there was still the fact that even Marco had absolutely no idea where the guy was, and Marco was still trying to get into his brother's good books. "Thanks. It's a nice thought, but I'd rather not make Carlos hate me even more."

Dylan wasn't happy. He wanted to make Derek pay for what he did and make Carlos sorry he was never there for Marco when he had needed him. But for the moment, the blonde needed to keep his feelings in check-

_Hold on._

"What's this?" Dylan asked suspiciously, bending down suddenly to pick up a crumpled piece of paper.

Marco's eyes went wide and he went to snatch it back, but Dylan had already moved away from him slightly to open it. _Crap, crap, CRAP._ "Um, nothing. Just...can I have it back?" Marco asked urgently.

But it was too late, Dylan was already reading it.

_Marco~_

_**I FOUND YOU.**_

_I told you I would. You're not slipping out of my grasp again._

_You can't keep running from me forever, and you know it. That's right. The clock is ticking, and you're already out of time. Ready or not here I come._

_And you better be ready._

_~Love always,_

_Derek_

Dylan just stared at it for a few seconds before he demanded furiously, "What the hell is this?" He waved it in the Italian's face.

"Nothing," Marco squeaked, looking like he'd love nothing better then to be anywhere else. Maybe it wasn't too late to call up Ellie?

_"Nothing?"_ Dylan repeated incredulously. "Marco, this is insane! We need to go to the police or something. _Why_ haven't you done this already? Look, I'll just grab my coat-" But Dylan trailed off as he saw Marco with his head in his hands.

"Do you seriously think I haven't tried that already?" Marco asked him wearily, defeat lacing his speech. "They never find him. For all they know Derek never even existed. All records of him have been erased, heck, I don't doubt that 'Derek' isn't even his real name." Marco gave Dylan a small, sad smile. "But, he hasn't been able to catch me yet. I'll just have to leave befo-"

"No," Dylan interrupted much more forcefully then he'd intended. "No, you're not. You can't leave Marco, just...what if I promise he won't come near you?" The blonde's voice was getting increasingly softer and more pleading as he asked, "What if I promise you he won't ever _touch_ you again? Will you stay? Please?" Dylan couldn't let Marco go. Not by himself. Not after Dylan had finally started talking to him. Not with Derek on the loose.

_Especially_ not with Derek on the loose.

"Marco! Dylan! It does _not_ take that long to set up a guest room!" Paige yelled, obviously ticked off at being left alone down stairs.

Dylan simply stared at Marco, waiting for an answer before he'd allow them both to go back down.

It was against every single warning sign his conscious was receiving, against every single thing he knew about Derek, but slowly Marco nodded in agreement. Of course, his mind was screaming, _WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? GO, GO, GO!, _but he blantly chose to ignore it. How could he tell Dylan, the one person here who knew his past now, and actually _cared_ about him_,_ that he was going to leave again? Granted, Marco didn't think he'd stay for much longer, but even just for a little while, to give Dylan some piece of mind...

Plus, Marco secretly just didn't want to have to go through the rest of his life never seeing him again.

Dylan smiled widely. "Good," he grinned, knowing that with this promise came the fact that he and Marco would be spending much more time together.

The Italian's face turned a deep red when he saw the older boy smile at him and he turned away, fighting off the extreme sensation of wanting to both kiss him and run from the room.

Oh boy, this wasn't good.

* * *

What do you think? :)

Again I'm sorry for it taking so long! I'll try to do much better with the other chapters!


	5. Chapter 4

**Title: **_Between the Lines_

**Author: **Seasonal Dreamer

**Rating: **T

**Author's Note: **So I'm back! :) This is sort of a one short so sorry if it's bad :P lol I'm hoping to try and be more frequent with my updates so here it goes! I hope you guys are still with me :)

Read and Review please!

* * *

Thankfully, Dylan and Paige's parents had no problem with Marco staying over. Sure, they gave him a curious look and a once-over before greeting him, but if they were okay with housing him over the weekend then Marco didn't have a problem with it.

Paige was absolutely ecstatic with having Marco over. Honestly, you'd think she'd never had a sleepover before, but apparently she was going to pull out the big guns all weekend. Which included watching scary movies(yay...), never sleeping(even better...), and...baking. Uh oh.

Marco loved Paige, there was no doubt about that. But sometimes...she was a bit much. And unfortunately for Marco, who knew how to cook or bake, well, anything, had to subject himself to painfully assisting Paige in her attempt to bake cookies. Paige gets very cranky when she bakes, which made Marco wonder why she even bothered in the first place, and this whole concept of being back in the kitchen brought back agonizing memories of his mom. And baking cookies, apparently, was the most difficult thing to do in the world since they were on their seventh batch of cookie dough. The first five were complete and utter disasters. Marco couldn't help but wince and bite his tongue every time Paige frowned and placed the wrong ingredient into the mixing bowl, forcing himself not to speak and let her figure it out for herself so as to avoid getting his head bitten off. The sixth, Dylan, who seemed to have an unnatural desire to watch them bake for hours, stole the bowl and started eating it. Apparently it wasn't bad.

Marco had the suspicious feeling that the only reason Dylan was even there was because he was dedicated to watch Marco twenty-four-seven until something happened to Derek. Paige kept shooting Dylan odd looks and Marco felt the blonde's eyes on his every move.

"You know, I already have a stalker, I don't need another one," Marco grinned as Paige, grumbling, left the kitchen to scrub flour off her face once the cookies were safely in the oven.

Dylan laughed and stuffed another mouth full of cookie dough into his mouth. "Stalking you? I don't know what you're talking about. I just like cookie dough."

Marco shook his head and smiled. Things between them had been so much..._lighter,_ more fun since their talk. Which was kind of weird since he expected it to be the other way around. "Yeah I can see that," he teased, scooping up a spoonful of cookie dough for himself and eating it.

Dylan smacked him on the head with their wooden, mixing spoon.

Marco ignored this and gave Dylan a thoughtful look as he chewed. "You know, this actually _isn't_ bad. It would've made great cookies."

"Told you."

"Are they done yet?" Paige asked as she trumped into the kitchen, looking extremely impatient.

Marco gave her an odd look. "Um, no? We just put them in. This isn't 'Easy Bake Oven.' Real cookies take time."

Dylan laughed and Paige threw up her arms in frustration. "Can you blame me? We've been here for _hours."_

"Why don't we watch a movie or something while they bake?" Dylan offered. "It'll make waiting less...boring."

Paige sighed a nodded, looking a little helpless. The three of them wandered into the living room, Paige going to sit in the love seat while Marco sat on the couch. Dylan went to go make the popcorn, and when he came back it seemed like the two had already picked out a movie.

Setting the bowl down on the coffee table, he jumped on to the couch and landed clumsily beside Marco, who ended up toppling to the floor in a not-particularly-graceful sprawl.

Dylan leaned over the side of the couch, grinning broadly, as the younger boy sat up and mock glared at him from beneath his now tussled hair. "If you wanted the couch to yourself, you could've just said so," he remarked standing up and brushing himself off.

The blonde laughed and pulled Marco beside him again, giving him a goofy, apologetic look. Marco's cheeks went slightly warm and they both failed to notice the extremely smug look on Paige's face as she started the movie.

Throughout the hour and a half time span, things were getting increasingly...odd. Somehow Marco and Dylan had moved ever so slightly towards each other without even realising it, until their knees were almost touching by the end of the movie. The point when Marco had to go fetch the cookies from the oven, Dylan found himself fussing over what position he should be sitting in when he came back, whether Marco would sit in the same spot, what he should say...all those silly things that drove him absolutely insane. He knew he was being ridiculous, but knowing that didn't seem to hinder him in his worry.

Paige, meanwhile, was beyond amused as she watched her brother try to shift ever-so-casually into a bunch of different poses, ranging from sitting cross-legged on his cushion to lying on his back. She thought it was both utterly hilarious and she was definitely going to tease him about it later, and it was completely perfect. Paige had always wanted one of her friends to join her family.

And she was _so_ going to make it happen.

As the final credits rolled up on the screen, Dylan yawned and stretched, closing his eyes for a few seconds. Yet, in those few seconds Marco sneaked a glance at the older boy and felt his heart beat a little faster than it already had been during the movie, blushing and turning away ashamedly at his indulgence once Dylan reopened his eyes. What was he doing anyway? Had he _really_ forgotten the horror that had been, and still is, Derek? Had spending a few short hours with Dylan _really_ washed all that away? Marco bit his lip fearfully at the idea, wondering just how dangerous Dylan could be to him. Not the kind of danger that he associated with Derek, but the kind of danger where if Dylan had that much affect on him to make the most terrible thing in his life seem to go from his mind, what would become of him if they got involved and Dylan hurt him somehow?

Dylan watched curiously as Marco got off the couch in a confused haze and wandered up to the guest room, not completely sure why he was going there. The Italian sat on the bed, his brow furrowed as his hands subconsciously reached into his pocket to pull out Derek's note. Ah. There lied the source of his unease. Marco had been carrying it around with him because, one, he didn't want anyone else to find it, and two, he had to have some sort of reminder with him about just how unsafe he really was.

The brown haired boy unfolded it and stared at the words without reading them; he'd already memorized it anyway. He didn't notice Dylan creeping up the stairs to peek discreetly into his room. The question that he'd been turning over in his mind was what was supposed to become of him. He'd have to meet Derek eventually. Or, someone would have to, but Marco had given up on the vain hope that somone else would magically take care of his problem for him. He knew that even as he thought this Derek was searching high and low for him, and this made the usual panic crash over him. Marco just wanted to run away. Be someone else, even just for a few hours. Just so he wouldn't have to deal with all his problems and just feel _normal,_ even if the feeling was temporary.

Dylan frowned as Marco got up and paced his room, agitated. What would Dylan have to do to prove to Marco that he wouldn't let Derek hurt him again? He knocked softly on the door and heard Marco's slight jump before he entered. Marco greeted him with an easy smile, covering his concern perfectly. "Hey, sorry, I'll be right down-" Marco started, but he trailed off when Dylan raised an eyebrow.

Caught.

"Marco, he won't find you," Dylan assured him gently. "I've never met him before in my life, so I don't think he knows you're here."

Marco lowered his eyes to the floor. "But he will, and..." he seemed embarrassed but he forced the words out. "-and I don't want you...o-or Paige getting hurt because that's all Derek does. He takes out the people in my life who mean something to me so I'll have nothing left but him." Marco didn't even seem to realise what he'd just confessed, but Dylan's eyes suddenly grew bright.

Marco directed his attention to the note clasped tightly in his hands. "Maybe-"

But Marco's cellphone suddenly, and pretty loudly, interrupted him. He rolled his eyes at the screen and answered, "Hey Ellie." He gave Dylan an apologetic look as he left the room, silently a little relieved. "What's up?"

_"You, me, mall, now,"_ She all but growled. _"No protesting. I need a gift for my Mom's birthday and _no one_ is willing to help me."_

"And what makes you so sure I will be?" Marco teased. He would do it, they both knew that, but he just felt like humouring her. Plus Ellie was exactly what he needed to take his mind off Dylan and his problems. Maybe.

_"Because you love me so much you'd so anything for me? Come on, Marco, I'm this close to begging. Her birthday's _tomorrow_, and if I don't get her something she'll absolutely love, I'll be under house arrest for the rest of my life."_

"Say please," Marco grinned to himself, biting his tongue to refrain from laughing at her groan.

_"Please, okay? With the biggest freakin' cherry you could ever want on to of it."_

"Okay, okay," Marco finally complied. "I'll be over in ten."

_"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" _And she hung up.

* * *

"You're late," Ellie grumbled, sipping on a strange looking smoothie as Marco walked towards her. It was a much better reaction than Marco had anticipated. She must not have wanted to scare him off, which goes to show how desperate she really was.

Marco hadn't been _intentionally_ late. It was Dylan's fault, really. For some odd reason, he tried to keep Marco in the house with him and it took a full fifteen minutes alone just to convince him to drive him to the mall that Ellie lived near by. Which was sort of peculiar since it made Marco feel like they were married or something, but it made Marco wonder whether Dylan was really more afraid for him than he had let on.

"Sorry," Marco smiled apologetically. "Things got a little, uh, _complicated._ So," he clapped his hands, looking around expectantly. "Where should we start?"

"I have no idea!" Ellie threw her arms in frustration, almost dropping her drink. "I don't know what my mother likes!"

Marco raised an eyebrow. "But she's your _Mom._ Aren't you supposed to know these kind of things?"

"Am I supposed to? Yes. Do I? Absolutely not."

Marco frowned. "Okay, what about jewelry? Girls like jewelry."

Ellie shook her head. "She's allergic to metal."

"Hmm...okay...flowers then?" He offered again.

"Maybe, but it can't be roses, daisies, chrysanthemums, forget-me-nots, sunflowers, lilies, anything the colour yellow, and-"

"Okay, okay, flowers are out," Marco remarked quickly, holding up his hands almost in surrender. "Um...bath stuff? Clothes? Candy? _Stuffed animals?"_

Ellie looked disheartened. "Try again."

Marco ran a hand through his hair, saying, "This is going to be harder than I thought." He eyed the smoothie again. "Is that even good?"

"Focus!" Ellie cried, snapping her fingers.

"Right, right sorry! It's just...it's a _really_ odd col-"

"Marco!"

"Okay!"

Marco and Ellie started walking around, Marco occassionally offering suggestions only to have them squashed. Until Ellie randomly skidded to a stop in front of a very unlikely looking store, beaming widely. Marco, who had just realised she paused, ran back and glanced inside, looking surprised. "Really?"

Ellie nodded confidently, still smiling. "It's perfect."

* * *

"So," Paige smirked, coming up to a distractedly reading Dylan.

Dylan raised his eyes to his sister's, confused. "So?"

"You seem...distracted," she almost giggled.

This was getting weird. "And when did you decide to care?" Dylan replied, lowering his book even farther down into his lap.

"Since I know what it is," she sang, skipping around the coffee table to the other side and sitting right in front of him.

Dylan smiled sarcastically, deciding to play along with Paige's strange behaviour. "Oh do you know? And what might that be?"

She was grinning at him like she was just dying to tell him some crazy secret. "You _looove_ Marco, and you can't handle the fact that he's not with you," she teased him, absolutely loving this.

Dylan didn't miss a beat in answering her, his poker face displayed. "It's an interesting theory, but you completely missed the mark. I'm not in _love_ with Marco. I _happen_ to be thinking about my hockey team and how they're doing without me."

Paige's face fell for a moment before she perked up, saying threateningly, "It'll happen Dylan Michalchuk. Mark my words." And she left him to sit there in peace.

Or his lack thereof.

Truth was, she wasn't _too_ far off. He _was_ worrying about Marco, but not for the reasons she was thinking of. Dylan just couldn't get the image of Marco's scared face out of his mind and it was killing him to just sit idle while both Marco and Derek were out there. _What if Derek finds him? What if he, like, kills him or something?_

_Oh shush,_ the more rational part of his brain chided him. _You're just being extremely paranoid like Marco. What're the odds that Derek'll actually run into him _now_ of all the times he could ever potentially find him?_

His phone rang, interrupting his worry and he saw that it was Nathan. "Hey Nate," Dylan greeted, answering his phone.

_"Hey wassup?"_

"Nothing actually," Dylan sighed, positioning himself so he was lying on his back. "You wanna do something?"

_"Where's lover boy?" _Dylan could actually see the smirk that Nathan had to be wearing.

"Shut up. He's at the Square One mall with Ellie."

_"Ha! Figures you'd know," _Nathan laughed.

Dylan groaned, feeling his cheeks start to go red. _"Anyway!"_ Dylan continued hurriedly. "Are you busy?"

_"Yeah, actually. I'm heading over to our hockey game. Oh, sorry, I mean _my_ hockey game minus the Captain."_

Dylan growled. "Seriously? I didn't even know we had a game today, ugh. I hate athletic probation."

_"Well, if you weren't stupid-" _Nathan teased.

"Oh shut it, Nathan. We both know that if you didn't cheat off of other people's tests you'd be in the same boat as me," Dylan playfully retorted.

_"Yeah, sure, sure, keep telling yourself that Dyl."_

Dylan sighed dejectedly as he said, "Well, kill them for me would ya?"

_"Always."_

"Thanks. Good luck." Dylan hung up, throwing his phone to the floor and resting his arms on his forehead.

This really sucked.

* * *

"So flowers, bath stuff, and candy wouldn't work, but a whole truck load of hockey and football stuff would?" Marco asked in amazement as they came out of a very manly looking sports store with Ellie's Mom's birthday presents.

Ellie shrugged. "What? She's a tom boy."

"And I thought you didn't know what she liked," Marco grinned, poking her in her side.

Ellie swatted at him, a badly restrained smile gracing her lips. "Oh shush."

But if Marco was ever going to go into cardiac arrest, now would've been the time as he glanced forward and stopped dead in his tracks, all blood leaving his face. "Oh my God."

Ellie, who hadn't realised he'd stopped, kept walking until his absence became apparent to her and she looked behind her. "Marco! Come on!"

"Shut up Ellie!" Marco nearly screamed frantically, rushing forward and grabbing her wrist, dragging her behind him as he flew in the opposite direction of where they had been heading.

"Marco!" Ellie protested, trying to squirm out of Marco's death grip.

Marco yanked her close and whispered venomously into her ear, "I swear to God Ellie, just _shut up okay?_" At Ellie's stunned and furious expression, Marco hurriedly begged, "Please Ellie? We need to leave, like _now._ I'll explain everything later if you want, but we just need to-"

"Hello Marco," Derek smirked from behind Marco's back. The Italian froze and turned around, eyes wide with absolute fear. "Long time no see."

* * *

Okay, so I know it's not very long, but I was just in the mood for a cliff hanger :D ahahaha


	6. Chapter 5

**Title: **_Between the Lines_

**Author: **Seasonal Dreamer

**Author's Note: **Ahh! It's been so long! I'm sorry you guys, I just had mad writer's block. But I made this chapter super long for you guys in case anyone's still out there who might read this :P A special thanks to **kdoc27**and **maplebird** :) You guys inspired me to continue writing this story :)

* * *

_"Hello Marco," Derek smirked from behind Marco's back. "Long time no see."_

Several things went through Marco's mind at this point, from _'Damn, I knew I should've written a will,' _to rather horrific flashbacks to the last time Marco had physically seen him. However, the only thing Marco's mouth could actually say was, "D..d..dare..duh...der..._flurm?"_

"A very good question," Derek smiled almost hungrily at him as Ellie gave Marco a curious look.

"Who're you?" Ellie asked, giving Derek a skeptical look.

"Derek," he replied, extending a hand, though his eyes kept flickering back to Marco. The Italian felt the overwhelming desire to smack Derek's hand away from Ellie's, but he was paralyzed. Ellie was looking at him closely, like she thought he looked familiar, which freaked Marco out completely. _No way_ could Ellie know Derek.

Derek seemed uncomfortable under her gaze, but he beamed nonetheless as he turned towards Marco, smiling maliciously. "So, Marco, I was actually hoping to catch up with you. I haven't seen you in _forvever."_ He gave Ellie an obvious look, who seemed unsure of whether to leave or not. Derek seemed nice enough...

"You have five minutes. I'll be over by the fountain if you need me," she said shortly.

Marco looked absolutely horrified, but his reaction had formed too late and Ellie wasn't looking at him as she turned around and left, giving them space.

Derek's smile became wider and more sinister as he took Marco in. His dark hair, round, chocolate eyes..."You haven't changed a bit," Derek said softly, moving closer to him.

"Don't! Don't come near me," Marco responded shakily, backing up. "How did you even find me?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "How do I ever find you, Marco? I'm just gifted at being at the right place, at the right time. But I think we have some things we need to talk about."

Marco glared at him. "Like how you killed my family?"

Derek's jaw set. "That was your own fault," he replied venomously. "If you hadn't dumped me that never would've happened."

It was like a slap in the face. Finally, someone had told him exactly what he'd been praying never to hear. That the death of his family was his fault. He'd always dreaded that it was, but never had someone actually outright blamed him. Not even Carlos had said it plainly like that, though Marco could tell that's what he thought.

The shift in the dark haired boy's facial expression caused Derek to smile cunningly at him before dropping his voice to a deadly serious tone. "Stop trying to fool yourself, Marco. Stop living in your little 'fantasy' world where you can just run from whatever's bothering you. You don't hate me. You're just afraid of what we had. You're afraid of _yourself."_

In some ways, maybe Derek was right. Marco had been so afraid of what he could cause just by being something his parents had never wanted him to be. His real mom and dad were very old fashioned, believing that a man should be with a woman and have children, not out with another guy. Being gay had caused his parents death, essentially, and the boy wondered fearfully how much power he had if simply liking someone could make his family suffer so much. He ran from a past that haunted him, but did that mean that he was simply living a fairytale?

For a split second, Marco even contemplated whether any part of this wasn't his fault. He was the one who dated Derek, afterall. He was the one who was gay. He could've just _pretended_ he wasn't gay and spare himself the hardships of coming out and being different. Sure he'd be miserable, but how many people _aren't_ miserable in this messed up world?

But he mentally slapped himself. Having been physically away from Derek for so long made him susceptible to his tricks; he had forgotten how persuasive Derek could be. "You're sick. Sick and twisted," Marco retorted, a wave of insane courage coarsing through him. Never before had he been able to say such a thing to Derek. But something...something seemed different. He no longer cared what Derek thought of him like he had before. "I had every right to dump you, and I'm sure everyone in the entire world would agree with me. You hurt me then, and you're trying to hurt me now. You need to leave me alone."

"No," he growled and Marco flinched backwards at the sheer fury that Derek had in his eyes. It was a look Marco had seen all too often in his nightmares. It was the look Derek had before he hurt him. He grabbed his forearm painfully tight and leaned close, snarling in his ear, "You had _no_ right. You will not blame your misery on me. It wasn't my fault. I didn't _want_ to hurt them, Marco. You know I liked your parents, and Carlos too. But you and your _damn_ paranoia!" His grip on Marco's arm tightened. "Why couldn't you have told them what you were? I would never have gotten so angry at you if you didn't hide our entire relationship!"

Marco was quite visibly shaken. His voice was hushed and quaked with fear as he choked out, "I know. I know, okay? I w-was wrong. I shouldn't have pretended. But you were worse. You...you were so much worse. You took it too far." He wrenched his arm free, staring at Derek with unfathomable eyes. "You're a murderer."

Derek's lip curled back in a snarl, looking ready to murder Marco there himself-

"Marco?" A quiet voice sounded from behind his head.

Both Derek and Marco jumped apart as the dark haired boy whirrled around. Craig Manning stood there, looking entirely uncomfortable but determined. "I thought it was you," he smiled.

"Craig!" Marco gasped in relief, thanking whatever deity chose to listen for sparing his life. "What're you doing here?"

The curly haired boy flinched a little at the glower Derek sent him over Marco's head, but he remained persistent. There was something he didn't like about the strange guy with his friend, and judging by Marco's reaction, he didn't like him too much either. Craig shrugged, "Just...out," he responded uneasily.

Marco raised an eyebrow slightly, but he decided not to badger him. He didn't exactly know Craig too well, so it wasn't his place to hound him for answers. And anyway, he did in a way save him. "Are...are you going to be leaving soon?" Marco asked quickly. He sounded almost desperate.

"I was actually going to head out now," Craig grinned. "Do you need a ride?"

"I'll drive you home," Derek hissed threateningly into his ear.

Marco's heart pounded in his chest. He could feel his old self complying out of fear of what Derek would have done if he didn't. But he had to resist. Derek would only hurt him again...

"Um, no actually, I think I'll go with Craig," he said in a small voice. Craig rocked back and forth on his feet, awkward but not willing to leave anytime soon.

"Marco," Derek growled.

"Let's go," Craig said quickly, giving Derek a hard look.

Marco downright loved Craig at the moment.

Derek didn't say another word and Craig placed a hand on Marco's shoulder, snapping him out of his terrified stupor. Marco felt like he was in a daze as he tore his wide eyes away from Derek's murderous glare and fell back behind Craig as they walked away.

However, Derek broke his silent vow of silence to take one more stab at making sure Marco didn't forget who _really_ ran the show around here. "Fine, you can go now, Marco, but don't think I don't know where you're living now! Don't think I don't know who you're staying with!"

Derek's angry voice rippled through Marco like a physical pain as they rounded a corner, officially blocking Derek from view. The Italian didn't know whether Craig actually heard that or not, but if he did he was pretending he didn't. And anyway, the only phrase that his mind seemed capable of coherently displaying at the moment was, _'He knows I'm staying with Dylan, he knows I'm staying with Dylan, he knows I'm staying with Dylan.'_Nothing else seemed to register until a red alert suddenly sounded in Marco's slightly disoriented head as they neared the exit. "Ellie," Marco blurted out. "I came here with Ellie."

Craig stopped and looked behind him, giving him a crooked smile. "No problem, I have room."

The curly haired boy kept a wary eye out for any signs of Derek as they headed towards the fountain that Ellie was leaning up against, but it seemed he had stormed off.

"It's about time," Ellie grumbled, pushing off the side. "I said five minutes and it's been-" her eyes suddenly landed on Craig. "When did you bump into Craig?" She smacked Marco's shoulder. "Did you forget I was waiting here?"

Craig side-stepped in front of Marco, holding his hands up as if in surrender and grinning amusedly at her. "It's okay, I actually ran into him while he was...talking to someone. No need to injure the boy."

Ellie gave Marco a sharp, scrutinizing look as if she were trying to stare the truth right out of him. But Marco wasn't telling. He may have let it slip to Dylan, and Craig may have his suspicions, but no way in hell was he going to let _another_ person get caught up in his little web.

Eventually, Ellie admitted defeat and simply shrugged as Craig offered to drive them home. It was silent in the car, save for a few murmured goodbyes, until Marco told him awkwardly to drive him to Dylan's house. Craig had raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more on the matter, which Marco was grateful for.

However, when they pulled up to the driveway, Marco found himself frozen in his seat. He didn't know how to thank Craig without it sounding weird. "Craig-"

The curly haired boy just shook his head. "It's okay. You're welcome. I don't know what happened back there but I won't say a word. I'm sure you would've done the same for me if I was in trouble." He smiled kindly.

Marco knew he meant well, but his words only made him feel guilty. The thing was, he wasn't so sure he would've. He would _like_ to have helped him if he needed it, but ever since Derek blew through his life he had morphed into a coward. "Thanks," he whispered before opening the car door. Craig waited until Marco had safely entered the house before driving away, more than a little puzzled, but fine with remaining that way.

Marco's thoughts were completely nonexistant as he numbly walked through the front door of Dylan and Paige's house. He honestly didn't know what he was feeling. In fact, it was almost like he had no emotions at all. And he hated it.

_"Don't think I don't know who you're staying with!"_

_"Marco, he won't find you."_

_"Stop living in your little 'fantasy' world where you can just run from whatever's bothering you."_

_"What if I promise you he won't ever touch you again? Will you stay?"_

Yes. He probably would've. But that was before Derek had actually found him.

He heard voices coming from the kitchen as he stared blankly in front of him and tried to climb the stairs without being noticed. The Italian just didn't think he had any right to stay here anymore. He couldn't put Dylan, Paige, and now Craig and Ellie in any more danger than he already had. Though Derek had done a good job of keeping his composure, Marco only knew just how violent he could be. The dark eyed boy couldn't help but realise that this was one particular train of thought that had been resurfacing a lot lately. He wondered quietly whether that meant something.

However, right now Marco just hoped that he would be able to just sneak up the stairs to gather his bags, write a quick note thanking them for their hospitality and disappear into the night.

But, of course, no such luck.

"Hey, Marco," Dylan greeted cheerfully, walking into the foyer where Marco's legs had somehow forgotten how to move.

Marco forced a believable smile, ever so casually pulling his sleeve over his thick, blue and purple bruise on his arm and responded, "Hey Dyl."

"How'd it go with Ellie?" Dylan sat on the couch and looked expectantly up at him to join him.

_Breathe. _"Oh, you know, normal." He both willingly and unwillingly sat beside Dylan and continued, wanting nothing more than to just lock himself away in his room. "Apparently Ellie's Mom is more into sports than you."

Dylan laughed. "That's fantastic."

"I know right? It took forever too."

The two leaned back against the back of the couch wearily, silence settling between them. They could hear Paige and what Marco assumed was Spinner arguing over which movie they would watch in the kitchen, popcorn popping in the microwave. But, for the time being, they simply relished in the feeling of peace that the moment contained. "Did this day seem _exceptionally_ long to you?" Marco asked, sighing as Paige's and Spinner's feet stomped towards them, shattering their little illusion.

"Yes," Dylan replied quietly. "Too long."

* * *

Dylan stared at his bedroom ceiling, his mind turning over problem after problem over in his mind. For some reason, he found he did his best thinking when he was trying to fall asleep. Lately though, all he could do was worry about Marco. Would he be okay? Would Derek ever find him? What would he do if he did find him? Dylan knew the answer to that, though. He would fight for him. All girlish flights of fancy aside, Dylan would fight for the fact that no one, no matter his feelings for them, deserved to be terrorized by someone like Derek. Though he had never met him, Dylan hated him. He was a murderer and a manipulator. The blonde honestly was beginning to wonder how someone like Marco could get mixed up with someone like Derek.

However, a blood curdling scream snapped Dylan out of his musings and damn near gave him a heart attack. He shot out of bed, all thoughts immediately jumping to Marco and Derek and whatever possible scenario could've possibly taken place to make such a horrifying sound come out of someone. The blue eyed boy blindly maneuvered his way towards his door, stubbing his toe a few times and hissing out a few choice swear words in the process.

He swung his arms madly about him, searching for the door knob. Dylan was frantically aware of the fact that if Derek was in Marco's room, the longer it took to get there the worse off everyone would be. Finally, he managed to open his door and stumble along in the general direction of where the guest room was located. It mildly surprised him that he, apparently, was the only one that heard it. Paige's snores rang from behind her bedroom door and his parents' light was still off. He wasn't sure whether to be grateful or concerned of the fact that everyone else remained oblivious. _God forbid we have a fire or something._

However, Dylan took a few moments to be amused by the fact that Paige sounded like a motorboat whenever she slept. She was about as girly as they come during the day, but at night it was a totally different story. Dylan fought back the urge to laugh at the thought of how surprised her future husband would be when he realised he'd have to listen to _that_ every night.

The hockey player mentally slapped himself. _Okay, focus. Marco needs me. _Somehow, against all odds, he found the doorknob to what he prayed was the guest room and he pushed it open. "Marco?"

In the dim moonlight that the window allowed into the room, Dylan could see a large mass sitting in bed, the covers strewn over his body. He gently walked over and removed the blanket. Marco sat there, holding his knees to his chest as tears streamed down his face. The younger boy didn't have any room in him to feel ashamed by them, and he just sat there staring straight ahead.

"Oh, Marco. What happened?" Dylan asked, sadness at finding him like this lacing his tone.

But then Marco did something completely unexpected. He launched forward, flinging his arms around Dylan's neck and cried profusely into his shoulder. The blonde, taken by surprise, listened carefully as the Italian stammered, "I...D-Dylan I c-can't get him out of m-my head! I h-have nightm-mares about him! I j-just want him g-gone!"

Dylan hugged Marco back tightly, wishing he could make it all go away. "I know Marco. I'm sorry, I wish I could say something to make everything better."

Marco nodded into the crook of Dylan's neck. He knew. If anything, he knew that Dylan was the one person who cared about what happened to him the most. If the fact that Dylan had rushed to his room and was holding him like this was any indication.

The blue eyed boy repositioned himself into a more comfortable position and Marco instantly crawled on to his lap, cuddling up to his chest. He didn't know why, but being close to Dylan made him feel safe. Feeling the warmth that was offered to him seemed to chase all the monsters of his past away. Though the sobs that racked through his body might suggest otherwise.

However, this feeling of comfortableness made Marco cry harder. It made him feel homesick. He wanted his mother to brush his hair back like she would do repeatedly when he was upset, giving him a warm hug. He wanted to be woken up in the middle of the night by Carlos as he would mischievously relate his next big scheme to him and ask for his help. He wanted his father to take him to soccer games and have his entire family all sit down for dinner together. Marco would give anything, _anything_ for all that back.

It just hurt so much. Marco missed his parents so badly sometimes that when he started crying he just couldn't stop. He was a family man, always making time for them. So it was that much more of a blow when Marco had walked through his door that night, to see them dead. It would haunt any living person anyway, so it was automatically ten times worse considering how close Marco was to them. But he couldn't do anything about that anymore. They were gone, but Carlos? Carlos was still alive. However, he might as well have been laying on that floor with his parents because it seemed like he was dead to Marco anyway. The Italian wasn't sure what was worse. Having someone be dead and knowing for a fact that he could never make things right, or having someone alive but never have the courage to make things right.

Dylan tucked the younger boy's head underneath his chin, feeling tear after tear stain his shirt but not caring in the slightest. It physically hurt him to see Marco like this. He was just so broken that the blonde was fearful that he would never be whole again. Dylan pressed his lips to Marco's head without a second's thought, hoping that it would provide some comfort for him.

Marco closed his eyes at the feeling of Dylan kissing his hair, his heart beating madly in his chest. And not from his nightmare either. You know what? He was tired of this. Tired of being scared to move on. Tired of waking up night after night, crying over his destroyed family or Derek's malice. Tired of depriving himself of happiness. And tired of just being so damn _cautious. _So, irrational boldness from a not-totally-alert teenager consuming him entirely, Marco leaned back slightly to grab Dylan's face in his hands and kiss him forcefully.

The blue eyed boy was so astonished that for a good couple of seconds he just sat their, frozen in shock. Until his conscious gave him a swift kick upside the head and he responded with enthusiasm, his hands flying up to tangle themselves in his hair.

Inwardly, of course, Marco's mind beat the holy hell out of him for doing what he was doing right now. Which, was make things so much more complicated for him in the long run. _Way to go Marco,_ his conscience sneered sarcastically. _You just made sure that not only will you suffer when you have to leave, but Dylan will suffer too. Fantastic. No, really, great job._

Marco pulled back abruptly, avoiding Dylan's eyes. Not that the blonde really noticed at first; he was still too dazed from the kiss to pay attention to anything. The dark eyed boy's face drained of all colour. What did he just_do?_

_'Don't think I don't know who you're staying with!"_

Oh.

Crap.

Derek knew where he was staying. So...why the hell was he still here?

That was it. He needed to leave.

Tonight.

"Um, Dylan? I...Um, do you mind just..." he blushed and gestured midly towards the door. "I'm kind of tired," he laughed shortly and without feeling.

"Wha-?" Dylan spluttered, coming out of his stupor before turning red himself. "Oh...oh, right. Um, good night Marco," he replied, walking clumsily towards the door and leaving Marco, alone.

The Italian sighed and closed his eyes, feeling the tears start to resurface again. It took a few moments before he could recompose himself enough to get out of bed. There was something he needed to do.

* * *

Dylan felt like there had been a parade going on in his chest as he had stumbled back into his own room. If anyone would have told him that Marco del Rossi would kiss him first, he would've responded with, "Like hell he will." But it had happened.

It was like magic. He could feel the spark between them then suddenly ignite as Marco grabbed his face and their lips touched. It...it was pure ecstacy. How often had Dylan thought of finally kissing him this last month and a bit? How often had Dylan simply wondered what it would be like? And now that he knew...he couldn't say he was disappointed.

So when the blonde woke up cheery but sleepy the next morning, the first thing he thought of doing was saying good morning to Marco. He wasn't sure whether that kiss meant they would become something. Maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe, in the heat of the moment of being comforted by him, the dark haired boy simply didn't think about it before he had kissed him. What if he regretted it?

The hockey player shook his head, a frown now playing on his lips. That's it. He needed to know. Now.

He stretched and rolled out of bed, not in the least bit blurry eyed now. Dylan tip-toed to Marco's guest room and knocked softly. "Marco?" No answer. So he tried again, a bit louder. "Marco?" Again, silence. The blonde shrugged, turning the handle while saying, "Marco, I know it's a bit early to b-" But Dylan gasped.

Marco's room was completely empty. The bed was made and the room was spotless, making it seem like Marco had never set foot in the room at all. Dylan simply looked dumbly around, as if waiting for Marco to just walk out of the bathroom or from underneath the bed.

Figuring he must've gone downstairs already, despite the hour, Dylan trodded down the steps. "Marco?" He searched all throughout the house, making a suffiecient enough mess if he did say so himself. But he saw no signs of a dark haired Italian anywhere. What was going on?

But then panic started to set in. He ran to Marco's room and and started flipping up the covers of his bed, checking the closets and every nook and cranny, his mind screaming, _Where is he? Where'd he go? Did he leave because of me? Did Derek get to him? Oh my God._

Something caught his eye in the midst of his frantic search. On the bedside table was a single sheet of folded up paper, neat handwriting written on the outside. _Dylan._

Dylan snatched it up and tore it open, his eyes reading it madly.

_**Dylan,**_

_**I'm...I'm sorry. There's not much else I can say. I...I suppose an explanation is in order, but I'm afraid it might not be an explanation you'll like.**_

_**This isn't easy for me, so bare with me please. By the time you read this, I'll be long gone. Don't bother to try and find me - I'd rather stay hidden. I know this seems very, well, movie-like and suspicious, but I just can't put you and your family in danger anymore. Last night? My nightmare wasn't like the others. Derek isn't in my past anymore. He's found me again. He found me at the mall with Ellie the other day. Odd, I know. But he found me.**_

_**I don't want you to blame yourself for any of this, okay? God knows he was bound to find me eventally, you just happened to get caught up in my little horror show. So...please, please, a million-times **__**please**__** just...stay safe. It's the only thing that will make this all worth it. I'm not sure how you'll take this because I've never had to do it before. Ever. Believe me, it's a little weird and kind of cliché for me too. So if you hate me, that's beyond understandable. I don't really like myself very much either right now.**_

_**Thank you for everything you've done for me for the short time I've known you. I'll never forget you.**_

_**Marco.**_

Dylan stared at the note in quickly dawning horror. _Derek found him? Marco's out there by _himself? He'd...he'd never see him again?

No. No, no, no, no, NO.

"Paige!" Dylan roared, sprinting from the room with the note crumpled firmly in his fist. _"Paige!"_

His sister emerged from her room, rubbing her eyes and looking like she litterally just crawled out of bed. "What?" she snapped.

"Get dressed." He ordered in such a no-nonsense way that Paige didn't even think of disobeying. "Marco's gone. We need to find him but first," he paused, an idea quickly forming in his head. "There's someone we need to see."

* * *

Dylan pulled up to the side of the road, jaw clenched. He wasn't sure whether he should be afraid or furious at the moment, but he was going to go with furious. Paige watched her brother with some apprehension. "Um, Dylan? Are you sure we should be here? I mean, it _is_ like eight in the morning. Most people I know aren't up until-"

"Do I look like I give a damn whether the time is convenient for him?" Dylan spat, but he instantly regretted his tone when he saw Paige flinch away from him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little on edge."

"Yeah, I can see that," she retorted, crossing her arms and turning to stare out the window defiantly. "Are you going to do this or what?"

Dylan nodded, stepping out of his car and strutting towards the front door. He knocked loudly, mentally preparing himself for who he was about to face.

The door opened, revealing exactly who he had hoped to see. Carlos.

Marco's brother raised an eyebrow in a clearly _I'm-pissed-off-that-you-came-to-my-house-this-earl y-in-the-morning _kind of way. "Can I help you?" He asked rudely.

That did it. No matter how Dylan had originally intended on talking to Marco's brother, his plan just turned to dust as soon as those words came out of his mouth. Dylan reached forward and grabbed the front of his shirt, dragging him with him as he stormed down the steps.

"Hey!" Carlos cried, attempting to pry Dylan's fingers from his shirt. But it was to no avail. Dylan. Was. Determined.

The blonde half-carried Carlos to the back of the house before he slammed him against the wall. "Listen to me," he growled. "I really don't care right now whether you think Marco's responsible for your parents' death, but you are going to tell me everything you know about this Derek guy or we're going to have some serious problems."

Carlos looked utterly baffled. And not the funny kind of baffled either. The angry, _I-don't-know-what-you-just-accused-me-of-but-it-so unded-bad-so-I'm-going-to-be-insulted _kind of baffled. _"What? _Okay first of all, who the hell are you? Second, how the hell do you know about-"

"You know who I am, Carlos," Dylan snapped, very annoyed. He was not going to let this guy play his little game with him. "And as for the last question, yeah, do you remember your brother Marco? Oh, wait, probably not since you spent the last year or however long it was denying his existence."

"You know what? I don't need this," Carlos retaliated, attempting to push Dylan off him, but it didn't work.

"No, you're going to stay right here until I know what I need to know," Dylan said forcefully.

"Right, and what exactly is that? I don't know this 'Derek,' and what does any of this have to do with me or Marco?" Carlos replied angrily.

"Derek. The guy who murdered your parents and was stalking Marco for God knows how long," Dylan said bluntly. Sure, it wasn't exactly the way he normally would've phrased it, but he was just so wound up right now that being 'sensitive' wasn't really on his mind. "He probably has Marco right now and if we don't find him, who knows what'll happen to him."

All previous irritated feelings suddenly evaporated from Carlos' face, and he gave Dylan this unfathomable expression that seemed like the exact opposite of anger. "Come again?"

"Marco. Is. Gone." Dylan said in a purposely drawn out voice. "And sooner or later, being out there by himself, he's either going to get killed or Derek will find him, and then probably kill him." His voice shook a little as he said this.

"This had better not be some sick joke-"

"Does it look like I'm joking?" Dylan said exasperately.

And then, it all seemed to hit Carlos and he just seemed to go...limp. He fell against the wall, still upright but looking almost defeated. "S-so what you're saying is..."

Dylan gave him a look. "Do you really need me to repeat it?"

Carlos shook his head. "I-" he sighed, looking up at Dylan. "I don't know anything about Derek." He laughed humourously. "To be honest I didn't even know this Derek guy murdered my family. Marco didn't tell me a damn thing." His face hardened a bit at the revelation, and it wasn't hard to see the bitterness he still held towards him. "Which makes me wonder," he continued, looking up at Dylan suddenly like it was his fault. "Why he told you."

Dylan shifted his weight between his feet, appearing a bit uncomfortable. This wasn't exactly the most opportune moment to reveal how he felt about Marco, or vice versa, or under the circumstances of which Marco confessed everything. But...the last one seemed the easiest to explain if he just...short-versioned it. "He, um, he's friends with my little sister, so he stayed with us when Derek discovered where he lived, so obviously he had to explain his reason for being there. But let me ask you this," Dylan crossed his arms, changing tactics on the fly. "Why do _you_ think Marco didn't tell you? Hm? Don't you think that if you walked in to find a guy that you, er,_'knew'_, standing over your dead parents and looking like he just won the freaking superbowl you'd be a little traumatized? Maybe he just _couldn't_ tell you. Not he didn't _want_ to tell you. He just _couldn't. _Because if it were me," he looked directly into Carlos' stricken eyes. "I don't think _I _ever could."

Those words cut deeply into Carlos. All those months of Marco being locked up in his room, Marco avoiding Carlos' eyes, Marco being unable to speak for the first few weeks after their death all suddenly whirrled before him. _That was...that was why..._

Dylan watched the transformation of Carlos' face with pity, all his anger and roughness leeking out of him. "Look," Dylan said softly. "I can't pretend like I know what either of you went through, but all I know is that if we don't find your brother, I can't guarantee you'll ever see him again."

Carlos bit his lip, tears stinging his eyes. "Y-yeah. But...w-where exactly are we going to start looking?"

Dylan frowned unhappily. "Unfortunately, that was why I came here. I was hoping you could shed some light on the guy, but..."

The Italian stood upright, pacing back and forth in front of him. "What if we just start looking everywhere? He can't have gone too far, he just left recently right?"

The blonde nodded. "Last night, early this morning, one of the two. "

Carlos seemed to sigh so deeply that it gave the illusion that he had been holding his breath for a while. "Okay...okay, good. Let's go."

Marco had no idea where he was going. Which, he supposed was good, since if anyone _was_ looking for him they'd think he would stupidly go somewhere he was often found to be. Right, like he was really going to be that obvious.

However, he knew how early it was, so he doubted anyone would be up. Well, except Carlos. He was always an early bird, but he didn't think Carlos would care whether he was gone or not. Marco sighed, pushing this thought out of his mind.

The Italian pressed onwards through the trees, utterly lost and honestly a little scared. What would he do for food? Or water? He could go more than three days without water. For someone deemed smart, he really hadn't thought this through.

_You know, there's plenty of food and water at Dylan's house,_ the quiet voice his his head betrayed him pressingly. Marco's heart ached at this. Dylan had been nothing but nice to him, and how does he repay him? By leaving a stupid letter and just up and disappearing. Yeah, real nice Marco. Guest of the year right here.

Marco groaned, pushing this thought out of his head too. This wasn't helping. _And why the hell was there so many goddamn trees? _Marco remarked angrily in his mind. Since when did he live near a forest?

"Marco?"

Marco's heart stopped. _No. Way._

_No _freaking _way._

The dark haired boy, though surrounded by many thick trees, dove behind a particularly wide one and peeked around it, both frustrated and honestly slightly amused. _How on Earth could he have found me so soon? What, does he have a freaking speacialized GSP? No way could he have-_

"Are you here?"

_Oh. Okay, so...he hasn't found me._

"Marco if you're hiding, I swear to God, I _will_ kill you," another, _very_ familiar voice sounded in Marco's ears. _Wha-? Carlos?_

There was a smack, and then Dylan's voice followed, "Dude, that's not going to help."

"Well you're the one who's standing here calling out to him like he's going to respond, 'Yeah, I'm in the kitchen making a sandwich! Want one?'"

"Will you two idiots shut up for a second?" a feminine voice barked. Paige.

_Geez, how many people are out here?_ Marco wondered incredulously.

Dylan sighed. "Look, this isn't going to help if we're all in one place."

"Well how exactly are we going to spread out? You're the only one with the car," Carlos said.

There was a silence before Dylan responded, "Here, I can call Nathan. He has a car, and he'll help us."

They must've nodded yes, Marco noticed, since not ten seconds later Dylan was saying, "Hey, uh, Nate?-"

_I gotta get out of here,_ Marco panicked. But just as he was about to move, a sudden thought struck him. _Wait. They're getting a car. Which means they'll be leaving soon. Whiiicchh means I should stay where I am._

"-Okay, thanks. Bye." A click. "He's coming."

"Good," Paige breathed wearily. Marco felt a sudden pang of guilt. It was his fault they were all out here looking for him. Why did he have to hurt everyone he cared about? "I just don't understand, though, why he would leave," she continued sadly. "I mean, we're not _that_ bad to live with!" There was a pause. "Hey...I just realised. Why _did_ he come to live with us?"

Carlos cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Marco felt an odd but powerful desire to burst out laughing. "Um...well-"

Dylan decided to spare him. "Their parents were being a bit unreasonable, so he, um, just kind of needed to take a breather."

Marco frowned. _If you're going to lie, the least you can do is make the relationships true,_ he randomly thought a little angrily. Those 'people' were _not_ his parents.

"But that doesn't explain why he left," a pout sounding in Paige's voice.

Another uncomfortable silence surrounded them. "Um," Dylan stammered. "W-well he, uh, he-"

"He was being stalked," Carlos cut in firmly. "By some jackass and I...I was never there for him. He kept tormenting him and finding him and I-I just never took it seriously."

"Oh," Paige finally replied lamely.

But they were saved by a sudden voice calling from behind them, "Hey! Dyl?"

But Marco's heart litterally froze with fright. _No...no it...it can't be._

He peered around the trunk, eyes wide as he saw a very familiar figure come into view.

Dylan grinned. "Awesome, thanks for coming Nathan."

Marco closed his eyes, not believing this was actually happening, and retreated farther away from them. He retreated, because Nathan...was Derek.

* * *

Eeeh! What'd you guys think? :)

Please review!


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **HI! :D So for a long time it's been bugging me that I never finished this story and I'm sorry for everyone who read this and I didn't have a last chapter. But here it is! I finally got some inspiration for how I wanted to end it so I really hope you all like it! And I'm sorry to everyone once again that it took so long!

* * *

Nathan (erm...Derek) smiled as he sauntered up to the three people standing in front of a group of trees, waiting for him. How absolutely _perfect_ was this? Here was his 'friend,' calling him up to look for the guy _he_ was looking for, with his sister and the other son of the people he killed. This was a pretty messed up situation. And he _loved_ it. He knew this friendship with the most popular jock of the school would pay off somehow. Though, to be honest he didn't really expect to receive _this_ big of a benefit. "Hey," he greeted, but put on a serious visage. "So Marco just like, what, up and disappeared?"

"Yeah," Dylan frowned worriedly. "We have no idea where he is, and we figured, you know, you have a car."

"Ah," Derek mused. "Well, where were you guys planning on looking?" For some reason, he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering back to the forest.

Everyone shrugged. "I guess...everywhere," Carlos murmured.

"Did you guys check in there?" Derek offered, nodding his head in the direction of the trees. "Don't people like usually hide in there when they're running away?"

"Uh, no way. There's bugs in there!" Paige whined, throwing a disgusted look towards the ominous forest behind her.

All three guys rolled their eyes. "Guess that's a no," Carlos smirked.

"Let's just try it," Derek said almost urgently. He had this overwhelming sense that Marco was in there.

Dylan gave him a curious look, but Derek just smiled goofily, hoping the blonde would just shut up and do what he told him. "Sure, I guess it's worth a shot."

Marco, meanwhile, was having a full-blown panic attack. Trying to make as little noise as possible, the young Italian tripped and floundered between trees and over roots as quickly as he could. _Why_ did he have to get himself in these situations! His heart was in his throat as he pressed onward, feeling like this had to be in some terrible nightmare.

Every once in a while Marco would stop behind a group of trees, being extremely silent in order to hear how far away the other three were.

"Guy...guys I think I hear something!" Paige cried.

_Damn you Paige! _Marco screamed in his head. _Don't you know who you're with?_ He didn't even care about being quiet now. He tore through the forest, stumbling and slicing his hands and legs on sharp, protruding branches without caring in the slightest.

"He's moving!" Carlos shouted, running in Marco's direction as well. Since when did finding Marco become like hunting a deer?

"I got him," Derek called confidently, making Marco so terrified he wanted to collapse. And then suddenly, he barreled face first into someone's chest. The younger boy didn't even need to look up to know who's chest it was.

Derek's large hands wound themselves tightly and painfully around Marco's wrists, dragging a fearfully stunned Marco with him to the clearing. One by one everyone burst through the bushes, twigs and leaves stuck in their hair and clothes.

"Marco," Dylan breathed, relieved.

But Marco simply stared at him with a mixture of betrayal, anger, and fear in his eyes. "What have you done?" he whispered.

Dylan's expression faltered. "What?"

"What have you done!" Marco screamed, tears falling down his face. Everyone regarded him with a kind of horrified surprise. "Don't you know who this is?"

Dylan's heart stopped, though he had no idea what Marco was talking about. His eyes flickered between Marco and Derek, scared. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

But Marco's breath which he was going to use as a response was cut short as Derek snaked an arm around his throat. He spluttered and coughed, struggling for air, all the while Derek was grinning at the three frozen individuals in front of him. "Sorry you had to find out like this," he smirked, not sounding sorry in the least. "But you know how it is."

"How what- What are you _talking_ about!" Dylan cried angrily. He refused to believe this. Nathan was his best friend. Nathan wasn't-

"Air," Marco gasped, his knees failing on him.

"Let him go!" Paige begged urgently. "Please, you're going to kill him!"

Both Carlos and Dylan looked like they wanted so badly to launch themselves at him, but they couldn't take their eyes off of Marco's face quickly changing colour.

Derek sighed like it was the most difficult and inconvenient thing he could do, and released his hold. Marco fell to the ground, gasping and sobbing all at once. This was his nightmare come true. And worst of all, his brother, his friend, and Dylan all got to witness it.

"Leave him alone," Dylan choked out, his eyes bouncing worriedly towards Marco and furiously towards Nath- Derek. Former best friend or not, he'd kill him for what he did to Marco. "I swear to God if you lay another finger on him-"

"Or what, dare I ask?" Derek leered. "What are you going to do, huh? You're going to 'hurt' me, is that it?" His smirk became wider and more mocking. "You're going to save your little crush?"

Dylan refused to let his cheeks turn bright red as Carlos whipped his head in his direction, gaping slightly. He clenched his fists and glared murderously at Derek.

Marco had finally caught his breath and he turned fearful eyes to Dylan, begging him not to do anything. He couldn't stand it if Dylan or anyone else got hurt because of him. "Derek, please leave them alone," he whimpered, not yet steady enough to stand.

The man looked almost swayed by his pleading tone, but he suddenly turned rigid and angry when he looked at him. "Why?" He narrowed his eyes as he saw the way Dylan and Marco exchanged an almost longing glance. "Y-you don't actually...not _this_ guy!" he roared, grabbing Marco by the front of his shirt and yanking him up. "How dare- you cannot be serious-" He seemed at an utter loss for words. Marco looked absolutely terrified.

But suddenly, before anyone could think of anything to do to get them out of this situation, Derek spat, "I'm sick of this shit." He reached into his pocket and unearthed a gun.

Everyone. Froze.

Derek grinned with malice and he pointed it straight at Dylan's heart. This was one killing he was definitely going to enjoy.

Carlos' eyes went wide with everyone else's and at the loading sound the gun made. And, not thinking much else besides _Oh shit,_ he dove sideways, pushing Dylan out of the way as the gun went off.

"Derek stop! Please!" Marco cried, grabbing on to Derek's arm and forcing it away. "Please I'll go with you, alright?"

Derek shoved Marco to the ground, glaring at him murderously. But after a few seconds, he agreed to his terms as he unloaded his gun. "Fine, but if any them try to take you by force..." he trailed off suggestively, giving them all a warning look. Marco nodded quickly, picking himself up. Derek grasped his shoulder, making Marco shudder and wince.

"Marco, don't do this," Paige pleaded quietly, tears stinging her eyes.

Dylan swallowed painfully, feeling a lump form in his throat as he righted both himself and Carlos. "Marco, please."

Marco refused to look them all in the eye, except for his brother. He shared the same glance he had on his first day of school, only the roles were reversed. Instead, Carlos' eyes were pleading and afraid, begging him to listen to Dylan and Paige. But Marco's eyes remained indifferent, trying not to let his pain show through. Really, what choice did he have? He couldn't just up and say to Derek, 'Oops, nevermind. Go ahead and shoot them while we all try and run away screaming. Maybe we won't all get shot.' He could barely live with himself knowing that his parents' death was partially his fault. If they got hurt because of him too...

He felt himself being forced into the woods, Derek's gun resting comfortably in the small of his back as reassurance that Marco would not get away this time. Marco closed his eyes.

Derek had won. After all these years of living in constant fear and playing cat and mouse, Derek had finally caught him. And he nearly got three other people killed in the process.

_"Marco!"_ he heard Dylan shriek, but that only caused a flash of pain in his heart. There was a scuffle that sounded like they were holding someone back, and Marco had a pretty clear idea who it was. Marco hated himself for bringing Dylan and everyone else into this.

And as they walked, Marco could practically hear Derek grinding his teeth angrily at the reminder that Marco liked someone else who obviously liked him back. Part of his manipulative tactic was to make Marco truly believe that Derek was the only one who could ever put up with him. But now that illusion was broken, and it made Derek furious.

Marco imagined that Derek had another car or a place nearby, and he did not dare to think about what would happen to him once they got there. But there was a deadened feeling inside of him already, but a part of him was almost relieved; there was no more uncertainty, no more running. Marco had a clear route in which he would be forced to go on, and the fact that he now knew what would happen to him almost, in some twisted way, comforted him.

_"MARCO!"_

Marco cringed. It was a chorus of voices now, Dylan, Paige, and Carlos all screaming his name repeatedly as if foolishly thinking that Marco could just step out of the woods of his own free will. Didn't they know that the louder they cried, the more pain Marco would receive?

_But is this truly what's supposed to happen?_ A voice deep within him asked. _Are you really going to give up?_

_Well I don't exactly have a choice,_ Marco snapped to himself.

_Don't you? You have an advantage here, an advantage Derek doesn't realise you have. You _know_ him. You know what he will do. _

_And how exactly does that help me? _Marco snorted internally. _I can predict how he'll torture me? Yeah, that's great. Real swell, if you will._

Plan_ something. Make him take his attention off you for even a second. Then run in spontaneous zig-zags, he can't shoot precisely then. _

Marco took a deep breath. Did he dare? _Well, I'll either die trying to get free, or die later after he's had his 'fun.' What's there to lose?_ Marco took a few minutes to gather whatever courage he could muster. He thought of Dylan. They could have a shot at something. Dylan could be the person to fix him. There was also Paige, Ellie, Spinner, and everyone else who were his best friends. He wanted to spend time with them and have _fun._ And Carlos. If he survived, he would have his brother back. He would have his _life_ back_._"Derek?"

"What?" Derek snapped harshly.

Marco flinched, breathed deeply, and said in a convincingly defeated voice, "You want them to leave, right?" He used the acting skills he had forged over the years to cover himself from the world, a skill he had been forced to develope because of Derek. And now he was going to use it against him.

Derek stopped, looking down at him. "Go on."

Marco, sounding like he was about to burst into tears, said, "Then make it seem like you've killed me already. Shoot the gun somewhere, it doesn't matter. If they think I'm still alive they'll try to find me, but if they think I'm dead, they'll just mourn and give up."

Marco saw a major flaw in his theory; if someone killed a person you were close to, you would most likely try to find them anyway and make them suffer for it. However, that was not what Marco had done. He had fled, so he hoped that Derek would think that of them as well.

There was a long moment in which Derek turned the idea over and Marco prayed with all his might that for once luck would take his side. "Yeah, that makes sense. I'd really hate to have to track them down afterwards and kill them. It was a huge pain just finally getting you."

Marco nodded mutely, steeling himself. He turned around to look at Derek, who loaded his gun with his two hands, a maniac look in his eyes, and pointed it to the sky. Without him noticing, Marco tensed, ready to run at the sound of the fire. _Three...two...one... _BANG.

Marco took off like the Devil himself was on his heels. He now thanked _God_ that there were so many trees, because they provided him cover. There was a horrible scream of anguish that came from somewhere in front of him, and Marco winced slightly. But what stood out to him most was Derek's roar of rage and the pounding of feet behind him.

But Marco was sprinting like he had never done in his life. Adrenaline had long since been coursing through his veins, and his heart was beating wildly in his chest. But he was flying forward, maneuvering himself between the trees like he had between the students at the beginning of the year. Funny how those little things came in handy.

The Italian zig-zagged like that voice deep within him had told him, but not too often because for one it slowed him down, and two, the trees protected him rather efficiently.

It became like a beacon of hope as Marco found himself growing closer to the cries of sorrow, and just as he was about to break through the clearing, he used whatever air was left in his lungs to bellow, _"RUN!"_

* * *

Every little hope Dylan was still clinging on to shattered at the fire of the gun. His eyes widened with incomprehensible horror as the sound echoed through the trees. _No...NO!_ He barely registered Paige's shriek or Carlos falling to his knees, because all he could focus on was the plummet of his heart. _God, please, no...not Marco...not him..._

His eyes blurred and he joined Carlos on the ground, sobs beginning to ring from his throat. _"NO!"_ he screamed in agony, hitting the ground with his fist as hard as he could. This was a feeling Dylan had never experienced before. It was the most awful pain, the kind that ripped his heart in two and made it seem like he would never stop crying.

It wasn't fair. Marco had never done anything wrong, and he had been killed an innocent man. Dylan rested his forehead on his clenched fists, folded over so his knees were tucked beneath him. He had never felt such hatred towards a human being in his life, and after a few moments, Dylan looked up with a murderous look in his bloodshot eyes. He got to his feet, shaking with rage and grief. There was something rustling from somewhere in the trees, and Dylan stood, expecting it to be Derek, and preparing himself to launch at him. He didn't care if he got shot; he just wanted to make him suffer.

But as Dylan tensed, preparing to attack, he was shocked out of his state by one word.

_"RUN!"_

The moment Marco burst through the trees, Dylan wanted nothing more than to grab him and never let him go. The blonde couldn't fathom the amount of courage it must have taken for Marco to escape. Dylan wanted to kiss him as hard and as long as either of them could stand. And a sudden realisation struck him like a brick; he loved him. Dylan, somewhere along the way, had fallen in love with Marco without noticing. And it took the ground shaking despair of thinking he lost him to really figure it out. And for God's sake, he was _never_ going to let anything happen to him again.

But Dylan didn't have time to think any longer, because he instantly grabbed both Paige and Carlos' arms and yanked them up. The three of them tore after a sprinting Italian, hearing the shots go off as Derek spat well thought-out expletives at their retreating backs. His rage drove him alarmingly fast, but Marco, Dylan, Carlos, and Paige had both a head start, and the intelligence not to run in a straight line.

_"Come back here Marco!"_ Derek yelled murderously, trying to shoot him down. _"I will kill you! I will find you, Marco! I. Will. Kill. You!"_

Dylan felt a surge of fury and protectiveness run through him at Derek's words. _Like hell,_ he growled to himself. Derek would not touch him again. He would have to get through Dylan first.

Thankfully, Dylan's car was unlocked. All four of them flung the doors open and dove inside. Dylan scrambled to the driver's seat and started the engine, pressing the gas pedal immediately even though he had no idea where they were facing. Marco was scrunched in the passenger seat, and Carlos and Paige were awkwardly sprawled along the back. But Dylan put his foot to the floor, and they sped away, hearing Derek's threats and curses fade behind them.

But Marco was far from relieved. Derek had a car. And he would be coming after them. Marco breathed heavily, and suddenly he felt two pairs of hands grab a hold of him and yank him with a yelp to the backseat.

Carlos engulfed him in the first hug in years, sobbing into his shoulder and apologising over and over again. Paige not a second later had got her arms around him two and cried. Marco felt a little dazed and patted them on the back, not quite understanding what was going on. He wasn't quite sure why they cared so much, especially Carlos, so he awkwardly stayed silent.

Marco looked up into the rearview mirror and saw a fire in the reflection of Dylan's eyes. It was a flame of pure intensity and care, and Marco found himself dumbfounded by his gaze as well. After having gone _so_ long with people indifferent in whether he lived or died, Marco was more than a bit incredulous at the sudden display of concern.

The look lasted only a second because Dylan was driving, but Marco was still stunned by it. However, Marco got right down to business. "We need the cops," he said firmly. "Does anyone have a phone?"

"I do," Dylan said, reaching in his pocket with one hand. He pulled it out and tossed it behind him.

Marco caught it and immediately dialed 911. _"Police, ambulance, or fire station?"_ the operating lady said in a practiced voice.

"Police," Marco said instantly.

_"Okay, what is the nature of your emergency?"_

That was the most complicated question she could have asked, though it was an obvious one. "Long story short," Marco said quickly. "There's a guy who is after me and three other people. We're driving down Curkland Road and we just escaped him trying to kill us. He goes by the name of Derek but he uses other aliases. He has a rustic kind of hair, five foot ten, and has light brown eyes. I can explain more later but _please_ for the love of God just send someone!"

_"What is your name, sir?"_

Marco resisted rolling his eyes before he said, "Marco del Rossi."

_"Is there a safe place you can get to?"_

"I -" But he didn't get anything out, because the window next to him shattered as something whizzed by. It was a gunshot. Marco ducked instantly, and the lady started to sound a bit frantic, but he paid her no attention. The phone clattered to the floor as he immediately looked to see if anyone had gotten hit, but thankfully they all seemed fine.

_"MARCO!"_

Marco flinched, horror beginning to set it, but it was very quickly followed by exhaustion. Still bent over, he undid his seatbelt so he could crouch on the floor. Carlos and Paige followed his lead immediately. Marco couldn't do this anymore. He was sick and _tired_ of this game and putting those he cared about it harm's way. He was just so tired. "Dylan...I...I think you're going to have to let me out," Marco said in a deadpanned voice.

"Like hell!" both Dylan and Carlos cried furiously as Dylan sped as fast as he could.

"Marco, don't say that, " Paige whimpered, clutching on to Marco's arm.

"We can't keep doing this," Marco answered, frustrated. "I was such a damn _idiot,_ I should have just stayed with him!"

"Marco, don't you _ever_ say that!" Dylan said so fiercely that Marco was a bit surprised. "You are _never _going with him again, do you hear me?"

"Dylan -"

"No! Don't you understand? We thought you _died!_ Do you know how -" But Dylan stopped, a choking sound emitting from his throat. His eyes were watery as he looked away from the rearview mirror and determinedly at the road.

Carlos stared intensely at his brother. "Marco, I'm so sorry I was never there for you, but _please_ for the love of God _don't. _I'm not losing you too."

Marco sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. He felt everyone's gaze on him, but he determinedly did not look up. Another shot sounded and hit the back of their car, causing Paige to shriek and Dylan and Carlos to swear loudly. Marco was silent.

What was Marco supposed to do? He was terrified of what Derek would do to him if he let himself get caught, but he was even more afraid of getting Carlos, Paige, or Dylan hurt because of him. And then he realised that he had dropped the phone.

_"I WILL FIND YOU, MARCO!"_ came Derek's venomous bellow. _"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHERE YOU HIDE, I WILL FIND YOU!"_

Marco closed his eyes. Yes, Derek would find him. But did Marco want to run anymore?

Dylan's heart was beating rapidly as he saw Marco's eyes close in the rearview mirror and a defeated look to pass on his face. He was horrified that Marco seemed so used to this threat, so used to pain. Dylan wished nothing more than for someone else to take the wheel so he could just hold him. "Carlos, you can drive, right?"

Carlos nodded, confused. "Yeah..."

"Then drive," Dylan said firmly.

Carlos didn't question him. He scrambled awkwardly to the passenger seat and cautiously reached over to take hold of the wheel along with Dylan. The hockey player in one swift move let go and launched himself to the back. The car slowed and jerked a little, but Carlos managed to get seated and put his foot on the gas pedal soon enough.

Dylan, meanwhile, crouched low and pulled Marco towards him. He kissed his dark hair and wrapped his arms tightly around the poor boy, feeling his body tremble.

Marco leaned in to the comfort, believing in his heart that this would probably be the last time he was held this way.

"Marco?" Dylan rumbled gently in his ear, making Marco feel some deep ache within him. It pained him to know that despite everyone's efforts, it would all be for nothing in the end. "Marco, look at me."

Marco sighed wearily, making Dylan's heart clench; the dark haired boy should have never been able to sound like that. But Marco pulled back and looked at him with those deep, chocolate eyes. Dylan reached a hand up to brush a small piece of hair out of Marco's face and said softly, "I promise, I _swear_ that nothing will happen to you. He won't ever touch you again, do you hear me? No one will hurt you, not if I can help it."

The younger boy looked away, utter turmoil shown plainly on his face. Dylan could tell that he didn't believe him, and it hurt. "Dylan, I appreciate everything you have done for me," Marco told him sincerely. "It's more than I could have ever asked for, but -"

"No, no buts," Dylan said adamantly, a kind of raw desperation in his blue eyes. "Don't give up now, Marco, please."

Marco didn't answer and continued to stare at at the floor. Dylan had the overwhelming desire once more to kiss him, but he fought it back; he didn't think now would be the right moment.

But just as he thought that, his car gave a great lurch, spluttering and beginning to slow. Marco whipped his head up at stare at the front in horror; it was out of fuel. Carlos swore loudly and frantically, stomping on the gas pedal as hard as he could. Dylan's heart dropped, but he instantly pulled Marco and Paige against his chest, determined to protect them. He uttered a low oath as the car eventually came to a slow stop on the side of the road, tightening his hold on the Italian and his sister.

There was absolute silence, but that only made everyone more scared. And then, as if straight from a thriller movie, came a maniacal laugh from a few feet behind the car. Marco flinched horribly at the voice, and Dylan pressed another kiss to his messy hair.

"Marco, Marco, Marco," Derek said, shaking his head as he came up to the shattered window. He twirled his gun in his hand and leered at him. "When will you learn?"

But his eyes suddenly realised the position he was in. Dylan was holding him tightly, protectively. Derek began to grit his teeth at the sight and held his gun more steady. "I've been meaning to do this all day," Derek snarled, loading his gun, his gaze on Dylan entirely.

"Derek, don't!" Marco cried, and tried to twist out of Dylan's hold so Derek wouldn't have such a clean shot. But Dylan would not allow that. He pushed Marco and Paige behind him.

Paige, snapping out of her frozen stature of terror, grabbed on to her best friend and brother like her life depended on it. "Dylan, please -!" she pleaded, tears streaming down her face. She couldn't lose her brother, she _couldn't!_

But suddenly, a figure collided with the unsuspecting Derek from the side, knocking him clear off his feet. Dylan jumped out of the car and saw to his surprise Carlos pinning Derek to the ground, rage in his eyes. Somehow Carlos had snuck out of the car without anyone noticing and tackled him. Derek seemed dazed, and his gun had skidded a few feet away. Carlos seemed to be cursing Derek out in three different languages as Dylan dashed forward and grabbed it, loading it instantly and pointing it at Derek.

For a few moments, he actually contemplated shooting. Derek was trapped, and they all knew it. But when his eyes lifted to see a trembling Marco step out of the car, he knew he couldn't do it. He wasn't a killer.

And not a second later, police sirens wailed loudly as four cars sped up to them as if on cue. Carlos quickly got off of Derek and backed away as several policemen jumped from their vehicles, guns pointing at them all.

"Drop the gun!" one officer barked at Dylan, who dropped it instantly. "Which one of you is Marco del Rossi?"

Marco stepped forward, pale and shaky. "I-I am."

The policeman nodded at Derek on the ground. "Is that the guy that was after you?" Marco nodded.

Marco didn't watch as the police handcuffed Derek and dragged him forcefully into the back of their car. He slumped against Dylan's car and slowly slid to the ground, staring blankly in front of him.

Dylan was crouched by his side in seconds, hugging him and kissing his forehead. "It's okay, Marco," Dylan said in a soothing voice. "It's over."

* * *

It had been nearly twenty-four hours since Derek had been arrested, and Marco had _just_ been given the okay to leave the police station. He couldn't remember being so tired in his entire life. The Italian had been forced to give detailed acconts of his experiences with Derek and what he did, and several times he had to take a break because it all became too much.

He had called Carlos to pick him up from the station even though he was a bit hesitant. Marco wasn't quite sure where to go from here with Carlos or Dylan, but he figured dealing with his brother would be the less stressful choice. Marco was a bit afraid of his feelings for the blonde. First of all, he wasn't quite sure Dylan would want anything to do with him. And second, he was afraid of what would happen to him if Dylan hurt him somehow. He wasn't sure he was strong enough to take much more.

And despite the fact that Derek was finally behind bars, and likely to stay there for the rest of his life, Marco couldn't help but feel numb. It seemed too quick, too unreal for Marco to really register it as reality. He figured it would take time before Marco came to realise his new freedom, and even longer for Marco to heal himself.

But Marco pushed everything out of his mind as a car pulled up, assuming it was Carlos, but the person that stepped out of the car surprised him.

Dylan nearly tripped over himself in his haste to get out of the car, but when he did, he took off running towards Marco with fire in his eyes. The dark haired boy cocked his head to the side and gave him a confused look. "Dylan? What're you -"

But he didn't get any farther, because the moment Dylan reached him, Marco found himself slammed up against the wall as Dylan suddenly kissed him fiercely. The blonde's left arm snaked itself around Marco's waist in an iron grip and his right hand tangled itself in Marco's hair.

Marco jumped in shock, but responded after a few moments almost as if in disbelief. He slowly laid shaky hands on Dylan's chest. There was such a sense of urgency and longing in the way Dylan kissed him that it made Marco's head spin.

Eventually, when Dylan pulled back, he cupped Marco's face in his hands and rested his forehead on the younger boy's, panting. "Marco," he whispered, sending shivers down Marco's spine.

"Dylan," Marco gave a breathless chuckle in return. He still couldn't believe this was happening.

"Marco...I know we haven't known each other for very long," Dylan said, his voice trembling like he was extremely nervous. "But...I want...I want us to be something. Not friends, I want us to be something more than that." He stroked Marco's cheek with his thumb, staring into his eyes.

Marco looked stunned. "You...what?" he asked stupidly.

"I want us to be a couple, but I understand if you don't -"

"No, no," Marco said quickly. "That's not it. Dylan...I...I don't know if..." Marco looked away. "I don't want to end up the same way."

Dylan realised with a twinge of horror that Marco thought he might become Derek. "Marco I would _never_ hurt you! You have to know that!" Dylan brushed Marco's hair from his face. "God, Marco, nothing will hurt you again," he said softly. "I promise."

Marco looked up and found Dylan looking at him with overwhelming care in his eyes. Dylan leaned forward and kissed him sweetly.

Marco closed his eyes and smiled slightly, before it faded and he opened his eyes, a haunted look deep within. "I...I don't know..." Marco whispered. "I want to, but...Dylan..."

Dylan gave a low sound of anguish. "Marco...please. I can't...I'm not going to just say goodbye, Marco. I want to mean something to you."

"You do!" Marco insisted, eyes wide.

Dylan smiled adoringly. "Then let me care for you, Marco. Let me love you."

"Dylan, I -" but then Marco stopped cold, looking stunned as Dylan's words finally sunk in. "Y-You...what?"

"Love you," Dylan repeated softly. Marco felt suddenly overwhelmed, and Dylan saw that. "Hey, it's okay, I don't need you to say it back. I know it's difficult for you after everything that's happened, but I want you to let me be there for you."

Marco swallowed thickly, but felt a rush of affection for the blonde before him. He blushed and smiled almost shyly as he nodded, unable to form words. The radiant beam that answered him took his breath away, and before he knew it, Dylan's lips were on his again, moving gently yet hungrily.

This, Marco thought, was perhaps the happiest day of his life. He finally found someone who loved him, someone who was more than willing to put him back together and protect him. For the first time, Marco found himself rising bit by bit above the waves that had tried to drown him, and as Dylan kissed him, Marco realised that after flailing about for so long, he could finally truly breathe.

* * *

Reviews would be lovely. I hope you all enjoyed it!


	8. IMPORTANT NOTICE

DON'T PANIC.

If you don't remember favouriting and/or following me, you're not going crazy. You've just done so while I was under a different name.

I'm still the same author; my name has just been changed. Why, you ask? Well, it's a bit of a funny story.

You see, some 'followers' I guess you can call them have added me on Facebook, and I'm not discrediting that; I love talking to you guys. But being the fool that I was and using my real name as my (former) username, some have abused the faith I put in you guys. For the past little while, I've been getting an alarming amount of messages on my Facebook from people who really didn't become my friend to talk about writing 'so to speak.' All the people who have done this have been blocked and unfriended and all that (if you haven't been blocked, then don't worry about this; we're still friends!), but I'm forced to change my name.

Unfortunately, in nearly all of my stories (if not all) I have listed my (former) username, so starting TOMORROW MAY 1ST I am going to be reuploading all of my stories with the changed name listed. Don't worry; nothing else will be changed, and any stories that you favourited/followed should still be accessible to you. But sadly, I'm afraid that all of your lovely reviews might be erased Please don't feel the need to re-review them, but if you are so inclined, they will always be appreciated.

And I must ask to any of you that are my friends on Facebook that I haven't blocked, PLEASE do not talk about any of my stories on my wall. Inbox me instead. I must be strict about this; starting tomorrow, if I find any comments regarding my works, they will be deleted. If you persist, I'm afraid you will also be unfriended and/or blocked.

I'm sorry for the inconvenience to the people who have been nothing but kind to me.

I'll be posting this notice in all of my stories as well as on my profile.


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